Into Perspective
by llacerta
Summary: The Past Part 3. A dream job, an apartment just down the road, a fresh start...what more could a guy like Randall Boggs want? But as soon as he starts living out his dream, things turn horribly wrong. It's finished!
1. Felicity

Finally, I have been able to find the time to write me next story in the 'Past' sequence, 'Into Perspective'. This story is set a few years after 'Sabotaged Dreams', and in the first chapter, Randall is about nineteen years old. The problem is, the way I've done it has meant that there might be big time jumps between each chapter. Hopefully I'll have made it obvious in the chapter itself, but if I haven't, feel free to ask any questions in reviews. As always, I appreciate constructive critism, but flames are a no-go. Umm...what else...Oh, 'Into Perspective' has been rated PG, but there's no swearing or anything explicit. And finally, a disclaimer- any characters from the film Monsters, Inc. are owned by Disney, not me (unfortunately) and any characters that are original are mine and are not to be used in anything else without my permission.

Thank you for reading the boring bits, but they were a necassity, so now you can get on with reading the story!

Chapter 1- Felicity  
  
The rain poured with ferocity outside, hammering against the windows. Lightning crackled above, electricity sparking from the sky like tiny Catherine wheels, shooting here and there with an atmosphere of pure magic. The tiny monster children in the usually bustling city of Monstropolis were just little quivering lumps under their bed covers, and though their parents tried to comfort them, their fears of what came from above were as strong as ever. But for the children that didn't have parents, that no-one cared for and ever would care for, this evening was as evil and scary as any other.  
  
Randall gazed out the window thoughtfully, sipping a cold cup of coffee. Boxes surrounded him and were to be seen in every nook and cranny in his tiny apartment, but he didn't care. Finally, he had a place of his own, somewhere he would be able to look after his own belongings without anyone else soiling them, somewhere where he could be by himself and have these thoughtful moments without any disturbance. It was a relief, especially after what had gone on in the past few years in his OTHER University.  
  
A little drop of rainwater that had splatted against the window began to trickle downwards, gathering others as it went. There was another flash of lightning and the thunder clapped a few seconds after. Randall was so deep in thought and so mentally satisfied that the doorbell ringing gave him a bit of a shock. His whole body jolted, knocking the mug to the floor and spilling coffee everywhere, and as the doorbell meekly rang again and again, he called out an agitated "Coming!" and picked up a few broken shards of his formally beautiful mug off the floor. Then, grabbing a paper towel, dabbing it forcefully at the puddle and willing it to go away, Randall looked up, astounded by the continuous ringing of the doorbell. Whoever it was was obviously desperate, so, sighing with a slight growl, he left the mess for later and went into the living room.  
  
"I'm comin', I'm comin'..." He opened the door, rolling his eyes. "Yeesh, what's the pan-"The lightning illuminated Randall's guest for a second, her blue scales shining and green eyes flashing. The rumble of thunder came soon after, silencing Randall's gasp. "Marie...?" he mouthed, not for the first time in his life.  
  
They stood there for a second, gazing into each other's eyes, until Marie bustled past Randall, putting a little pile of blankets on his sofa carefully. The blankets stirred. Marie made her way to the door again, but not before Randall could shut it. He stood in front of her determinedly, glaring.  
  
"Oh no," he said quietly, shaking his head. "You're not going anywhere 'til you tell me what's going on." Marie didn't reply, instead staring at her twin-brother, wishing the tears that were rolling down her soft cheeks would go away.  
  
She choked out a suffocated "I can't," and ran towards Randall suddenly, gripping one of his arms and trying to pull him away from the door. But he wouldn't budge, and as Marie struggled, Randall peered over at the bundle on the sofa. A little head peeped out of the cloths, and a small hand rubbed a set of lavender eyes.  
  
"What's that?" Randall said without feeling, getting a firm grasp on Marie and holding her still. "_Who's_ that?" Marie was trembling as she answered.  
  
"Her...her name's Felicity, and she's yours now." Randall let go of his sister, feeling numb.  
  
"WHAT?!" He took a deep, steadying breath. "What are you talking about, Marie? Huh? You gonna explain what's happened? Why...why THAT'S here?"  
  
"I told you, I can't! I'm sorry Randy...I'm so sorry..." She burst into tears, heaving great, racking sobs and laying her head against her brother's chest. He looked down at her and tentatively patted her on the back. But, as she wrapped her arms around Randall in a squeezing hug, he couldn't help but accept the warm embrace with a bit of his own tenderness.  
  
"Hey, hey, it's okay...I'm not mad at you- you know what my temper's like...c'mon, buck up..." Marie eventually let go, but still held Randall's hand tightly in her own.  
  
"I love you Randy, I love you SO much, but I can't tell you anything. I just can't." She glanced up at the shabbily hung clock, her eyes widening. "I have to go now; if they find out that I've been here..."  
  
"Who? What are you talking about? Look, where have you been all these years?" Randall was asking a lot, and he knew it, but he couldn't let Marie go without getting any answers.  
  
"Just look after Fliss, please, just look after her," Marie pleaded to Randall, her grip on his hand getting tighter. "Please! PLEASE!" she wailed. Randall was getting a little worried about his neighbour hearing the commotion, and tried to get Marie to quieten down.  
  
"Okay, okay...shush now, ssshhh...I just want to know a few things-"  
  
"BUT I CAN'T TELL YOU! I CAN'T! THEY'LL KILL ME AND YOU, AND IT'LL BE ALL MY FAULT! I CAN'T!"  
  
Marie pushed Randall so hard that he tripped over a box and fell flat on his face. She threw open the door and ran, along the corridor...still running...down the stairs...gasping for a breath...outside...got to keep running, got to keep running...they'd seen her...and they were going to catch her...  
  
BANG!  
  
The sound of a gunshot reverberated off the tall apartment-blocks.  
  
Randall shakily got to his feet. Everything was spinning. Maybe it was the shock of Marie having just visited, maybe it was that little feeling in the pit of his stomach telling him that that gunshot was aimed at Marie, but whatever it was, it made him feel sick.  
  
He leant against the sofa, breathing heavily, and the only time everything seemed to get back into focus was when he gazed upon the little girl sleeping soundly on the blankets in which he had first seen her in.  
  
--------------------------  
  
The morning sunlight peeked through a slit in the deep purple curtains of Randall's bedroom. The storm of the previous night had cleared up completely, giving the morning a fresh, new feel. Though it was full of boxes, the room felt airy and spacious, the sunlight dancing over the thick, purple sheets of Randall's bed as a light breeze fluttered in through the half-open balcony doors, making the curtains seem to slither and sweep.  
  
It was quite a beautiful sight, but what some would consider an even more beautiful sight was a little girl, tucked away in the crinkled covers, waking up in amazement and wonder, sitting up, yawning, stretching, and looking around wide-eyed. She sat there for several minutes, wondering if this was all a dream. A smile spread over her face.  
  
She pushed back the covers gently, taking her time, and crawled out of bed. As the soft purple carpet came up between her toes, a shiver ran down her spine. What if this was all a dream? The smile vanished.  
  
There was a loud THUMP from the other room, and a short yelp. Felicity suddenly felt very scared, and thought better than to look around, especially without Jud Green. She quickly climbed back into bed and was about to curl up into a ball when she caught sight of a little bump in the bed covers. Slinking cautiously like an animal inspecting something new, Fliss made her way across the bed and stopped inches before the unknown object. Then, in a second, she swept her hand across the covers, grabbing them and tugging them away.  
  
"JUDDY!" Felicity dove forward and grabbed the bright yellow soft toy, hugging it tightly. The two eyes on their floppy soft sticks of the fluffy toy swung and bounced in the embrace, and the long tail in its back dangled. It was a ragged toy, limbless and flaccid, and where there had been great big tears and holes previously, there now were a collection of stitches. But although the person who had mended Fliss' favourite and only toy had had the nicest of intentions, they hadn't done a very good job and some stitches were already beginning to come loose and fall out.  
  
Felicity looked at Jud fondly and gave him one last squeeze. Her confidence had grown and she made her way down to the ground and to the door, getting more and more anxious with every step. Before reaching up to grasp the door knob, she took a deep breath, turned around to look at the room which was almost a haven for her once last time, and gazed down at her beloved Juddy.  
  
"This is it, Juddy. Now I find out if it's a dream or a nightmare."  
  
The door swung open. Randall was sitting on the floor, rummaging through a box and taking bits and pieces out. He inspected a weirdly shaped glass with confusion, then covered it with the bubble-wrap, only just noticing his guest. Looking up with an air of surprise, Randall acknowledged her presence.  
  
"Morning," he said in a blank tone, rubbing an eye. Felicity didn't move. Randall was getting back to his unpacking, and looked up at her again. "Want some breakfast?" He was nervous- children weren't exactly his area of expertise, but tried to be as welcoming as possible. Fliss shook her head. "Wanna help me unpack?" Without answering, she shuffled over to Randall, staring into his eyes. Feeling as though he was being scrutinized, Randall then pointed over to a small box on the other side of the room. "You can do that one." She did as she was told, lying on her front with the box's contents spilled over the floor.  
  
Minutes passed. There was silence except for the birds twittering outside and the cars zooming along in the streets below. Randall had opened all the windows, so the sounds of the great outdoors were bombarding his flat. The two of them kept glancing across at each other- when one was, the other wasn't, and the edgy atmosphere remained. But, soon enough, the tenseness subsided and Randall was chuckling in the centre of the room. Fliss narrowed her eyes, bewildered, but realised that he was looking at a photo album. Now was the time to be brave.  
  
Felicity coughed, once, then, twice, catching Randall's attention.  
  
"Yeah?" he grunted, bothered by the disturbance.  
  
"Where's...I-I mean, I was just wondering, but where's Marie?" A fierce, strong, _exhausting _pain burnt in Randall's chest. It was searing, and hurtful, and utterly powerful, but he was used to it. It's what he always felt when he had lost something.  
  
When he had lost someone.  
  
"She..." Randall stuttered, thinking desperately for a reasonable answer. "She had to go."  
  
"Why?" Felicity asked in her sweet, innocent voice. Randall couldn't look at her whilst he lied; he couldn't gaze upon her shiny purple scales, her smooth, webbed hands, her soft, expectant smile, and her sweet lavender eyes. It was the eyes that were the worst- they were almost unbearable to look at, especially when you were trying to hide something from them. But there was also something weirdly familiar about them, about Felicity in general. And it wasn't Marie's influence.  
  
Randall sighed.  
  
"Because she's a very busy monster."  
  
"So she'll be back?" Randall swallowed a rising lump, focusing on his album.  
  
"No." Fliss became very panicky in a matter of nanoseconds, and the sweat on her forehead glistened in the morning sunlight.  
  
"But why? I don't get-"  
  
"Don't ask any more questions." Randall's hard-core act was falling apart. "Don't ask any more questions that you know you won't like the answers to. She's gone, and she isn't coming back. That's all you need to know, okay?" He was devastated to see that Felicity had begun cry a little. A few minutes later, she was weeping desperately, sobbing with her head buried in her hands. She wrapped herself up into a secure little ball, shaking with sadness. Biting his tongue angrily, Randall stopped the urge to whack himself and thought about what to do.  
  
He could comfort Felicity, give her a talk, maybe a hug even. After all, he knew what it was like to be left without any family, and it wasn't much fun. The problem was, he might get attached to her, and deep inside, Randall knew that he only wanted this to be a part-time arrangement, so to speak.  
  
Or he could just leave her there, crying her eyes out. It was cruel, but she'd get over it. Wouldn't she?  
  
Figuring that he might as well start on the right foot with Felicity, Randall crept over to her and sat by her side, his eyes never leaving her face.  
  
"It's gonna be okay," he whispered. A second later, the depressed little girl threw her arms around Randall, giving him a bit of a shock, and hugged him as tight as her little arms could. Still she cried, but at least there was an element of comfort in her tears. Randall let a little half-smile cross his face. That Felicity was such a sweet little girl...  
  
"You...you wanna talk?" he asked shyly, giving her a slight pat on the head. She nodded, not opening her eyes, still clinging onto the guilty lizard- monster. Eventually, she let go, but not without a fight.  
  
"I thought you wanted to talk!" Randall exclaimed. Smiling for the first time in front of someone she was really beginning to warm up to, Fliss sat back and grabbed Jud, stroking his tail. It was obvious that she wasn't going to start the conversation, so Randall decided to ignite it with something warm and reassuring, and also something that he knew she was familiar with.  
  
"Who's that, then?" Randall pointed to the scraggly toy cradled in Fliss' arms.  
  
"His name is Jud, but I like to call him Juddy. He likes it too." Now it was Randall's turn to smile. He had always thought of himself as almost allergic to children of any form, but Fliss was different somehow. She was sweet and caring, almost adorable.  
  
"Really? He looks a little rough, doesn't he?"  
  
"He's been through a lot- I've had him my whole life. And it suits him! But someone sew-ded all his holes up, and they didn't do it very well so now he looks stupid."  
  
"Hey! I was just trying to mend him!" Randall gently tried to take the stuffed toy from Fliss' grasp, but she wouldn't let go. "I thought I did a good job of the little guy." The humour dwindled a bit, and the conversation changed its colours to a serious mood. "You said that Jud's been through a lot. What do ya mean?"  
  
"Well, he was with me when me and Marie had to keep moving around, and he kept getting lost."  
  
"Poor guy," Randall replied, not sounding particularly sympathetic. He wanted to move on to other, more pressing matters. "You call your mother by her first name. I don't understand why though- didn't she ever tell you to call her Mummy or something?" Felicity paused, in deep thought for a few moments, before answering.  
  
"She said...she said that it made her feel old or something if I called her Mama, so she liked it if I called her Marie."  
  
"And how old are you exactly?"  
  
"I don't know exactive-arly, but I'm six in two months time! Wait a second..." She stopped again, then glared at Randall persuasively. "Am I gonna get a birthday party?" Randall chuckled, relieved.  
  
"Sure."  
  
-----------------------------  
  
They sat in the kitchen, sipping their orange squash in silence. Randall had brought the little stool from his bedroom by the table, and Fliss was quite happy perched atop it. There was no awkwardness between them now, but though Felicity was perfectly happy concerning Randall, the lizard-monster was feeling increasingly remorseful. He couldn't just get rid of her, could he?  
  
Licking his lips thoughtfully, Randall took another sip and peered over at the person who had invaded his thoughts.  
  
"Why you lookin' at me like that? It's _weird_." She blinked naively up at Randall, gripping her seemingly giant glass with both hands.  
  
"I'm looking at you because..." Randall trailed off. "D'you prefer to be called Felicity or Fliss?"  
  
"Fliss. I HATE being called Felicity. What's your name?"  
  
"Don't you know? Didn't Marie tell you that you'd be coming here?"  
  
"No...She doesn't tell me when we move. We just do." Fliss grinned somewhat cheesily up at Randall, her eyes almost disappearing. "You still haven't told me your name!"  
  
"Randall. Ya know what I hate being called? Randy. Horrible name." Fliss giggled delightfully.  
  
"That name's_ funny_!"  
  
"Which one? Randall or Randy?"  
  
"Both of 'em!"  
  
"Oh, really? And you think your name's all that now, do you?"  
  
"Yeah! It's like candy floss, and I LOVE candy floss!" Randall wagged a finger at her.  
  
"Well, I guess I'll have to take note of that, won't I?"  
  
"So will I be living here with you now?" This caught Randall by surprise. He slumped back in his chair a little, folding his arms. All he wanted to do was make a fresh, honest start with Fliss, but being honest was going to be a lot harder than he thought it would.  
  
"We'll see." Fliss nodded, not seeming to be too bothered about that. She wasn't looking very happy though. "I'm sorry..."  
  
"No. It doesn't matter. I've always had to move around anyway, all my life. Who cares if I have no-one to look after me now?" Randall was looking very sincerely at Fliss by this point. Her situation was so desperately like his, and at the same age...but there was one key difference. Back then, Randall DID have someone; his twin-sister, Marie. But Fliss seemed to be an only child, or if she did have any siblings, they certainly weren't going to just turn up at any moment.  
  
"I haven't said no just yet, Fliss. And...and I doubt I ever will." There was another pause, another minute or two of silence. Both monsters were getting increasingly depressed, but Fliss was handling everything a lot worse than Randall. At first appearance she might've seemed brave and strong, but she was still only a child. She had begun to cry again, quietly this time, and had crawled onto Randall's lap. No words had passed between them, but none needed to- their feelings and emotions were taking the most important roll at this time.  
  
"Hey..." Randall began, Fliss looking up in attention.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
D'you know your father?" Fliss shook her head, looking a little downcast.  
  
"No...Marie didn't like to talk about stuff like that."  
  
"Oh...okay." Fliss looked up once more, a hopeful glint in her eye. "What?"  
  
"Well...you know stuff about me, but I don't know anything about you." Randall grinned.  
  
"Nosey little so-and-so." Fliss laid her head against Randall's chest. "Okay, okay...Well, this is where I live, obviously. I work at Monsters, Inc., though I haven't actually _started_ yet- I begin next Monday."  
  
"Wow! Marie told me about Monsters, Inc! She said her brother wanted to work there!"  
  
"Yep. That's me. She...talked to you about me, ever?" Fliss thought hard.  
  
"Not really...she said that if she talked too much about that kind of stuff, they'd come for us."  
  
"Who?" This was getting interesting.  
  
"I don't know. She never said. But they were dangerous. Did...did they...?" Randall shrugged softly, then shook his head.  
  
"You remember what I said 'bout asking questions?" Fliss smiled a little.  
  
"Can I ask something else?"  
  
"Depends what it is."  
  
"Oh, okay." Randall winked slyly.  
  
"Only kiddin'. Go ahead."  
  
"Marie once said that it was really hard to get a job at Monsters, Inc., and coz of what...what we look like...it'd be even harder..." Randall chuckled knowingly.  
  
"Let's just say that if ya do someone trustworthy a favour, they'll always pay it back, no matter who you are." Randall hefted Fliss up and placed her on the table, which creaked ominously. They looked at each other warily, and Randall quickly grabbed her again before the whole table would collapse.  
  
"Breakfast?" Randall yawned, still feeling as though he had just woken up, and tutted.  
  
"You said you didn't want any before." Preparing her argument, Fliss went into the lounge.  
  
"Well, I wasn't hungry THEN, was I?"  
  
"Fine," Randall said, pretending to be annoyed. "Look, how 'bout you get back into bed with that battered toy of yours, and I'll bring your breakfast over in a minute. Okay?"  
  
"'Kay!" Fliss bounded into the bedroom, feeling quite satisfied with herself, trying with all her might to push her troubles to the back of her mind. Meanwhile, Randall had got back into his almost brooding state, trudging into the kitchen. He looked outside. It was coming on ten o' clock, and the streets outside were full of monsters going here and there, getting on with their daily chores, meeting up with friends...And everything for them was perfectly normal. Absolutely fine. For them, nothing strange or unusual had happened, nothing life-changing. They could just get on with it all.  
  
Another pang of longing overcame Randall. He wanted to be like them, for nothing bad to ever happen to him, for his life to be pain-free and happy. But only yesterday his sister was shot...the last member of his family was gone, and he was left with no-one. Or maybe not the last.  
  
Maybe Fliss was Randall's last hope. Maybe.


	2. A Meeting Of Two Minds

Hidey ho, neighbours! Well, not neighbours...exactly...yeah. I just wanted to answer a few questions asked in reviews and to clarify a few things. Firstly, a question was asked about the first chapter, when Marie was shot, if Randall should've actually gone outside and found Marie's body to check whether she is actually dead or not, and maybe to even help her if she isn't. I completely agree with the fact that, yes, Randall would've done so, but I can't really reveal why I ddin't include it in the story- it wasn't because I forgot, but if Randall HAD gone and had a look, he wouldn't have found a body. I can't say any more, but all will be revealed...some time. Lets just say that, for now, the reason he hadn't gone and checked was because...err...it was raining outside?

And secondly, there was a question asked about the final chapter of 'Sabotaged Dreams'. Well, quite a lot was discussed in that chapter, but to make it clear and summarise it is easy enough- Zephyr basically explained that the ship full of explosives that Randall and co had found was headed to a scream factory, like Monsters, Inc., because the 'boss' wanted the monsters working there to be killed because they hadn't given him and his lackies access to the doors. They also discussed their relationship, and how Cy had blackmailed Zephyr into pretending that she loved Randall, though she actually ended up not pretending. That's pretty much it. So thanks for the reviews, and on with the second chapter!

Chapter 2- A Meeting Of Two Minds  
  
"Good morning, this is Monsters, Incorporated, how may I help you? Oh, hello Mr Stevenson. You won't be coming into work today? Oh what a shame; that in-growing horn of yours isn't playing up again, is it? Oh...okay then, I'll tell him for you. Yes, don't worry, everything's sorted. Alright, let me just get a pen..." Celia fumbled about, looking underneath the reception desk, searching for what she needed as Mr Stevenson waited impatiently in the background.  
  
"Ahem." The Cyclops's head popped up from underneath as Randall got her attention. Turning the pen between his fingers, he grinned slyly, flipping it over and backwards with ease as Celia watched crossly.  
  
"Randall! Give it!- Oh, sorry Mr Stevenson. No, I was talking to _someone else_ who _won't give me the pen_," she added, pointing to the handset and then making a writing motion. "Now!" she mouthed silently. Randall rolled his eyes, placing the pen on the desk, and folded his arms huffily. Relieved that the lizard-monster had given up, Celia began to write down what Mr Stevenson was saying, which was quite audible from Randall's distance. Mr Stevenson was known to be a bit of a pompous bossy-boots, his stately voice ringing out the instructions to Celia, and wasn't a very popular monster in the company. As soon as he had started talking, Randall began mouthing what he was saying, acting out a humorous impression of him, wagging his fingers and spitting everywhere as he was known to do. Celia began to snigger, then laughed outright.  
  
"No..." she said, chuckling. "Sorry Mr Stevenson, my friend here...yes, Mr Stevenson. No, Mr Stevenson. Okay, Mr Stevenson, that's fine. Yes...ha ha HAA!" Randall had shifted colours to Mr Stevenson's sickly shade of dark green and had stretched his mouth as far as it could go to do an accurate impression of him, even if it was a little comical. Celia sniffed, trying to hold back her laughs.  
  
"Yes, Mr Stevenson. Okay then, get well soon! Goodbye." Though she had hung up, the silent impression continued until Celia was close to tears. "Ahh...that was hilarious! But did you _have_ to do it while I was on the phone? Mr Stevenson was talking about a very important matter..."  
  
"Yes. His 'in-growing horn' or whatever. Really important." Randall's face was blank as he shifted back to his usual shade of purple.  
  
"Well you know what Mr Stevenson is like. He's a very important man," Celia insisted, though the incredulous expression on Randall's face said it all.  
  
"Ya call 'Head of the Janitorial Department' _important_?!"  
  
"Talking of janitors...but, firstly, how's Felicity been doing at school recently? I heard her school were doing some sort of a fair-"  
  
"SHUSH!" Randall's eyes darted to the left and right, and he turned right around looking at everyone, making sure that not a monster was in earshot. "I _told_ you not to talk about..._her_ here; who knows what might happen if someone finds out?" he muttered, leaning over the desk. Celia seemed slightly hurt at Randall's outburst, and also a tad worried.  
  
"IS she okay?" Randall sighed wistfully.  
  
"If only," he whispered. "She turns nine next month, but the second I mention a birthday party she gets all moody with me and storms into her bedroom." Shaking his head slowly, Randall buried his head in his hands. "I hear her crying every night..." Celia patted his arm sympathetically. "I _know_ she's been through a lot...and school isn't helping...some of those kids..."  
  
"It must be very hard for her, Randall, but you've got to give her a chance to get used to it all." Randall couldn't help but grit his teeth in exasperation.  
  
"But she's had THREE YEARS, for Pete's sake! THREE YEARS to get over stuff, to get used to school, to get used to...me. But still, every day, when I wake up I'm..." He closed his eyes sadly. "...afraid...afraid to go into the kitchen, afraid to have her look at me in that way again, as though I'm some kind of a stranger...It's amazing, really, considering what she was like the first time we met." Rubbing his forehead, Randall snapped out of his little depression and turned back to his usual, jokey self, snorting. "Kids. All your life you dread having one around, then when one IS around, THEY end up being the one's who complain. Not that I'M complaining or anything..." The two smiled, but Celia remained concerned.  
  
"Randall...I know you're worried about Fliss, but, well, I'm worried about you. You've been working so hard lately..."  
  
"Hey, I'm fine." Randall winked cheerfully. "I'm ALWAYS fine." A little memory of earlier sparked in his mind, and he held up a finger pointedly, narrowing his eyes. "You were saying something about janitors...?"  
  
"Oh." Celia giggled after a second, then..._blushed_? "Well, there's a new janitor around here."  
  
"And I care because?"  
  
"Well..."  
  
Just as she was about to answer, Celia turned her head in the direction of a brash, loud and annoyingly sarcastic voice coming from around the corridor that led to some of the Scarefloors- E through G, to be more precise.  
  
"Look Sul, I'm tellin' ya- you're MADE for the job! Just a bit of practice..."  
  
It took Randall a few seconds to realize that he had stopped breathing. It wasn't surprising, though. As he stared at the two monsters only metres away from him, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder, but didn't react- not because he didn't want to, but because, at this moment in time, he couldn't. His brain was too overloaded to do anything other than stand and stare.  
  
"Randall? Randall, you okay?" Celia asked. As she did so, the monster that had been talking so loudly turned around, facing the two of them, and smiled, running over to the reception with the grace of something very ungraceful. As soon as he had gotten near the desk, he straightened himself up, checking his breath and wiping back his eyebrow, and slowed the pace down to a merry strut.  
  
"Celia!" he exclaimed, trying to sound surprised. "I didn't see you there! May I say what a _pleasure_ it is to see...err...your lovely face...again..." He drifted off as the lizard-monster standing not half a metre away from him caught his attention.  
  
"..._Randall_?" Randall didn't reply, instead opting to stay where he was with the same shocked expression on his face. Sulley eventually came over, carrying a mop and bucket, but was more welcoming than his friend, Mike.  
  
"Err, hello there, Randall. It's...good to see you again!" But Mike destroyed his efforts almost immediately.  
  
"LIZARD-BOY?! YOU WORK HERE?!" As though he was being blown away by the words that had just been shouted at him in extreme velocity, Randall gripped the reception desk for support and gasped just the once, shortly and quickly. After a moment, he let go, held his hands out as though he was waiting for someone to give him something, then blinked. He looked at Sulley, and then at Mike, then back at Sulley again, back and forth, still astounded. It took him a very long while to manage saying something.  
  
"You work here now, don't you?" As Sulley slowly nodded, Randall mumbled an almost silent "damnit," took a deep breath, and relaxed himself. "I hope you have a nice time here." He turned to Sulley. "You the new janitor, then?" Once again, Sulley nodded.  
  
"Yes, I am." He then turned to Mike, trying his best to enjoy the moment.  
  
"And your job is?"  
  
"Only a Scarer's Assistant, y'know," he replied, looking at his nails in an attempt to be modest. It clearly didn't work then.  
  
"Oh. Good for you. I hope you both have a good time being a janitor..." A grin spread over his face. "And a Scarer's Assistant. I'm sure your parents are very proud. Always knew you'd make something of yourself.  
  
"Well what are YOU then, Mr High-And-Mighty?"  
  
"You'll find out soon enough. Though, if you look over there, where the Scarer of the Month photos are, I'm sure you'll get a clue." His smile couldn't be any bigger now- every single one of his pearly, sharp white teeth were in full view, making Mike inwardly nervous. "That good enough for you, Mr I-Was-High-And-Mighty-Before-Someone-Burst-My-Bubble?"  
  
"Randall!" Celia glared at him, appalled at his rudeness. "Now, I know you two have history, but I'm sure that you both are able to make a fresh start. It has been years since you've seen each other, after all, and you both probably have changed since then. So why don't you shake hands and make up?"  
  
"What, with Lizard-Boy here? No way!" Celia's glare went up a notch. "Heh heh...Sure honey, whatever you say!" Mike reluctantly held out a hand, waiting. Chuckling with ease, Randall shook his head.  
  
"Celia, you can't manipulate me into doing anything coz, believe it or not, I don't fancy you. Therefore," he continued, leaning into Mike's face, "I don't have anyone to impress. Or try and impress, in this case." Randall strolled off, quietly satisfied with Mike's annoyed expression, and made his way to Scarefloor F. Staring after him, the fuming Cyclops cleared his head of any anger that he might have towards Randall and focused on Celia instead.  
  
"So, my little...err...Shmoopsie-Poo, how has your day been so far?" Celia narrowed her eye, ignoring the little pet-name that Mike had given her.  
  
"It was going very well, thank you, until you and Randall locked horns! I understand that there's..."  
  
"History?" Sulley added helpfully.  
  
"Yes, history, between you and him, but can't you at least try to get along?"  
  
"But my honey-muffin, I just can't get along with him. It's IMPOSSIBLE!" Mike pleaded.  
  
"No it isn't. And stop calling me those names. I'm not your honey-muffin. I barely even know you!" Throwing his hands up in the air, Mike sighed.  
  
"There's NO reasoning with ya, is there?" He shook his head, his tone turning whiny. "I bet not even a date at Gregory's Diner would tempt you to change your mind..."  
  
"Gregory's Diner? Is that all you think of me as- someone to take to GREGORY'S DINER?!"  
  
"But Shmoopsie-Poo-"  
  
"No, Mike. Either you and Randall make up, or you can't take me out for a date at all. And if you DO make up, you're NOT taking me to Gregory's Diner."  
  
----------------------------  
  
The Scarers were half-way through their daily routine of stretches and were preparing for a day out on the Scarefloor. By this time, most had spilt up into their little 'friendship' groups, chattering away to themselves, leaving Randall on the outskirts. He busied himself with doing a few more basic stretches, but he couldn't help but feel a little bit empty and unaccepted. It wasn't as though he didn't have any friends- he had always sworn to himself that if that day ever came, the day when he had no friends, no allies, then he would have to sort it out some way or another. HOW he would sort it out was another matter entirely, and though Randall was never keen on being a Mr Popular sort of character, friends seemed to be as important to him, or even more important, then to anyone else.  
  
Even Fungus had a group. Sort of. He lingered around with them during breaks and lunch, though Randall had always had the feeling that they thought of him as a bit of a peeve. But at least he had SOMEONE, even if they didn't particularly like him.  
  
"Mornin' Randall." Swerving round to face the person who ad addressed him, Randall smiled and put up a hand.  
  
"Hey there Fillip. How ya doin'?" The furry ball nodded, rolling backwards and forwards on the spot.  
  
"Fine Randall, just fine," he replied in a gruff voice. "Heard a rumour that Waternoose wanted to have a talk with'cha. Dunno if it's true- just the gossip at the vending machine." Randall raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Really? D'ya think I should go and check it out?" Fillip shrugged as best he could.  
  
"Dunno. Didn't hear it from the most reliable of sources though, but it might be best to follow the trail."  
  
"Yeah, just in case." Randall was about to go by Fillip when he stopped in his tracks and eyed the furry ball suspiciously. "This isn't a joke, is it?"  
  
"Wouldn't know what you're talkin' 'bout." Randall sighed, not knowing whether to trust his 'friend' or not. He put his arms on his hips, considering the decision. _Why does Fillip have to be so...? Ah well. 'Better be safe than sorry', I guess.  
_  
"Tell Fungus where I'm headed," he ordered the furry before sauntering out of the entrance to the Scarefloor and going down several corridors, muttering to himself as he went, and as he came to a modest set of double doors, he stopped. On either side of the door were portraits of old CEOs of this prestigious company, most of which were looking solemn, glum and serious. Randall swept back his fronds pensively, wondering whether this was the right thing to do or not, and held up a hand, rapping his knuckles on the door.  
  
"Come in," a deep voice from within commanded. Randall's pulse went up rapidly. He slowly pushed a door open, popping his head round the corner, and seeing that Waternoose seemed to be in a good mood, smiling slightly, went in.  
  
"Err, hello sir, someone said that you wanted to see me?" he babbled nervously, trying to keep his calm. Waternoose was the one who had been lenient enough to give him the job, so keeping him sweet was on the top of Randall's list of priorities concerning Monsters, Incorporated.  
  
"It's okay, Randall my boy, come right in and take a seat." Randall didn't say a word, just walked across the room, his feet padding against the soft carpet, and sat down as he had been instructed to do, looking about him in awe. The room was quite bare, but this illusion was caused by its size. There were pictures and paintings dotted about the walls, the most prominent being a cluster in the corner of the room, occupied by portraits of Waternoose's family. "Randall?" Henry said, trying to get the lizard- monster's attention.  
  
"Oh," he answered, waking up. "Sorry Mr Waternoose." Arching his hands, Waternoose slanted forward slightly, the formally happy expression on his face deadly serious.  
  
"I have some very important matters to talk to you about, Mr Boggs, and I'd appreciate your full attention." Randall nodded quickly in reply; Waternoose was obviously keen to get right down to business, and he didn't want to stand in the way of creativity. But, although Randall was expecting something dramatic, (the expression on Waternoose's face couldn't be an ounce more sombre) he certainly wasn't expecting what his boss had laid before him.  
  
"THIS is my future, your future, the _company's_ future." Randall blinked, staring at it.  
  
"A napkin? A...NAPKIN? _This_ is the 'important matter'? What you used to wipe ketchup, by the looks of it, off your face the other day? A NAPKIN?! Sir, I don't want you to take this personally, but have you gone _mad_?" Waternoose chuckled, enjoying the reaction, then got on with it.  
  
"There's no need for any panicking _just _yet, Randall." He nodded to the napkin. "Turn it over." Randall did as he was told, scrutinized the pathetic little crayon drawing on the unsoiled side of the napkin, and gasped as he realised exactly what he was looking at.  
  
"The...Scream...Extractor...? All you've done," he said slowly and carefully, pronouncing every word with extreme emphasis, "is get...get my brother's design, and draw it rather pathetically, if I may so myself."  
  
"Actually," Waternoose began, "it was my idea originally." Immediately shaking his head, Randall folded his arms, trying to avert his gaze.  
  
"Yeah. Right. And how exactly did you get THAT idea?"  
  
"My brother stole my design, and showed it to our father."  
  
"And that's how your brother got the job of CEO first instead of you?"  
  
"Exactly. Harold, my brother, asked your brother to build the machine as, according to Harold, he was very skilled when it came to mechanics. And he had the intelligence to go with it."  
  
"Yeah, yeah..." Randall was fed up of talking about Cy, wanting to get to the roots of this meeting. "Okay, I believe you. But what's any of that got to do with me? Why'd ya draw Cy's machine on a napkin?"  
  
"Look closer," Waternoose beckoned. Randall picked up the napkin, trying to avoid the tomato sauce, and widened his eyes as he understood what his boss was talking about.  
  
"It's..._different_." Waternoose nodded slowly.  
  
"Yes. It's a new design, better than its predecessor. And I want you, my Top Scarer, to build it." Randall started off sniggering, then chuckling, then finally laughing outright. He tilted his head back, letting it all out in his nervousness, almost coming to tears at the absurdity of what Waternoose had just said. Meanwhile, the CEO got to his feet, pushing his swivel chair back, and went around his desk until he came behind the laughing lizard-monster's chair. He bent down so his face was side by side with Randall's, making him stop his hysterics and look up in attention.  
  
"This is no laughing matter," Waternoose growled in his ear. "And surprisingly, I don't see what's so funny."  
  
"I'm sorry sir," Randall stuttered, realising how stupid he had been. But he knew he had a point. "But don't you see how...silly it is to ask me, of all people, to build this thing for you?"  
  
"No, I don't."  
  
"Well, think about it- my own brother built pretty much the same machine as you're asking me to build, but look what happened to him! If he hadn't got away when he had the chance, he would've been caught and sent to prison. This kind of stuff is _illegal_, and I just don't do illegal." Waternoose stepped away from Randall, going to the darkened corner of the room where his relatives were hung, his arms behind his back.  
  
"Which is why I need you to be sworn to secrecy," he said, his family looking down at him sternly. "I can't afford anyone to find out about this." He turned around to face Randall once more. The lizard-monster was very wary at this point, and was keenly listening to every word his boss was saying; who knows; he could use some of it to his advantage. "You can use your brother's little hideaway, since I'm sure that there's still a few components that you might need to build the machine. It's also in quite a secretive place, so as long neither of us starts spreading the word..." Randall thought ferociously, then opened his mouth in shock.  
  
"Hold on a second! Rewind! When exactly did you get it into your head that I had actually accepted your offer?" Now it was Waternoose's turn to have a little chuckle.  
  
"Randall, Randall, Randall...so young...so naïve. You have a choice- you say yes, and that's settled. Or you say no, and I convince you to change your mind." The arrow of Randall's anxious-o-metre went into the red boundaries.  
  
"And how do you plan about doing that?"  
  
"I am being very sincere when I say this Randall, but I really don't want to have to use my forces of persuasion...especially not on someone as..._unique_ as yourself." Though Randall was very worried at what Waternoose was thinking, he managed to keep his cool. Anyhow, that's exactly what Waternoose expected NOT to happen, so keeping quietly calm upped Randall's chances of escaping out of this awkward situation scotch-free.  
  
"Try me." Unpredictably, Waternoose sighed sadly before giving his answer.  
  
"Your father was a great monster, Randall. Don't make me have to threaten you with something so..."  
  
"Try...me." Waternoose massaged his forehead with a hand, then glanced up.  
  
"I will have no choice but to banish you." Astonished by what his boss had just thrown at him, Randall's eyes widened, his hands balling into tight fists.  
  
"You wouldn't dare. You've probably already got enough illegal matters to sort out without me on the agenda." Outrage burned in the air.  
  
"What are you implying?"  
  
"I'm 'implying' that you don't mind dealing with issues on the other side of the law."  
  
"How DARE-"  
  
"C'mon, Waternoose. You're not fooling anyone. Especially me." Randall had got Waternoose backed away into a corner, or so he thought. The reality was was that it was the opposite- Waternoose was the one who could blackmail people by threatening them with the worst kind of punishment you could possibly receive in the Monster World; banishment. And not only could he get rid of Randall in a nanosecond, but he also held the key to Randall's job, something that he knew he held proud above anything else.  
  
"That isn't anything to do with the matter in hand. What is your decision? Are you prepared to agree with my terms, or do we need to...renegotiate?" Randall knew EXACTLY what that cunning statement meant. There was silence except for the constant _TICK...TOCK_ of the grandfather clock by the window as the lizard-monster thought things through very carefully. "Think about it Randall- finally, all of that respect that you have longed for your whole life at your feet in days. And I am prepared to pay you a lot of money for your services. A _lot_...of money." All of those unpaid bills, those worrying debts, to suddenly disappear would be absolute heaven for Randall- looking after a child was a lot more pricey than he would ever have thought before. They might even be able to move, get a better place...  
  
Saying yes would make things very simple, but no matter how sweet Waternoose could make the deal seem, it was still illegal, not to mention a lot of hard, tiring work. And he had a child to come home to- a member of his family that he could trust with no-one else. Building the Scream Extractor would take up a lot of time and would be something that Randall had to be dedicated to one-hundred percent. Could he bear to leave Fliss at home by herself? The obvious answer was no. But there was still Fungus to look after her, perhaps...And hadn't Fliss been talking about something the other day, about how she wished she could be proud of her father? Maybe this would turn the tables. The Scream Extractor, if it worked, (which Randall would make sure it would- he was a perfectionist and a bit of a workaholic at heart, and if he began a project, he wouldn't finish it until every little detail had been thought of and completed) would have to be released, so to speak, at some point, and when it was, surely he would get the credit? And when he did, finally Fliss would have a father to be proud of...But there was something else that could just about match the idea of Fliss looking up to Randall and being able to say "That's MY father, and HE built the Scream Extractor."  
  
The respect. All that respect. Everyone would praise him, support him, and just be nice to him in general. He'd have proper friends, not like he had now, but trustworthy, happy people who honestly liked him. This thought was so appealing that Randall felt like saying yes that very second, but he held the acceptance in. But if he DID say yes, the chances of banishment were nought, and for it to be anything above was a definite no. Randall breathed steeply, in and out, burying his face in his hands momentarily. When he looked up again, he had made his decision. Unfortunately for him, this was to be one of the worst decisions he would ever make in his entire life.  
  
"Okay. I'll do it. But first, tell me a little more about the specifications of this thing..."  
  
---------------------------  
  
Randall got up, sliding his chair back awkwardly, and nodded once in confirmation. Waternoose also nodded, looking at the door directly behind the lizard-monster, and waving a hand towards it. Taking the hint, Randall carefully walked across the room and left, shutting the door softly behind him with sweating hands. The second he knew Randall was out of earshot, Waternoose picked up an antique phone and dialled a number, waiting for the person on the other end to pick up. Once the ringing tone had ended, the CEO began to speak quietly, uttering each word as silently as he could.  
  
"...and I'm going to promote a lower worker. Yes, I have someone in mind. I'm going to ask my Top Scarer to train him- he knows what he's doing- but you're going to have to switch a few numbers round. Don't forget to make it tally up though- we don't want anyone getting suspicious now, do we? Good. That's right. Now get on with it; we haven't got much time." The dialling tone ringing in his ears, Waternoose put the phone down, satisfied. Everything was coming together quite nicely.  
  
----------------------------  
  
The corridor was almost empty, save one janitor and his friend. They were nattering away, Mike with a pile of paperwork in his hands that was meant to be going to the main reception, Sulley with a soggy mop. Laughing and smiling, the two best friends were having a good time talking about matters that amused them. Mike pranced around Sulley, a hand above his head with only three fingers visible, and narrowed his eye, grimacing fakely.  
  
"I'm Lizard-Boy, and I think I'm _amazing_!" Chuckling, Sulley waved a dismissive hand at Mike.  
  
"Stop it, Mike! You know it's not nice to talk about people behind their backs." Mike stopped the act but retained the annoyed atmosphere.  
  
"But HE deserves it! He thinks he's so...so..."  
  
"Randall _does_ have a high opinion of himself, but it still doesn't mean we can talk about him like this." Mike snorted.  
  
"I bet you he talks about us behind OUR backs." Sulley took a few stumbling steps back, mouth agape as his friend looked on bewildered. "What?"  
  
"Actually, I don't," a voice said from behind the Cyclops. "Though it's very tempting." The tone had a unique accent, and was easy to identify. Mike spun round, panicking at the grim look on Randall's face.  
  
"Oh, hey there Randall! What a surprise to see you here-"  
  
"Oh shuttup. Just get out of my way." Randall pushed Mike to one side, barely giving him a second look, and weaved his way around Sulley just as his tail was tugged. "_What_?" he snapped at the large furry, his eyes blazing with uncontrollable fury.  
  
"If we've offended you-"Randall sneered at the pathetic apology, baring his teeth.  
  
"You? Offend me? Haven't you learnt yet that no matter what you say to me, it doesn't hurt?"  
  
"Randall-"  
  
"I thought you had- that's what you've seemed to be thinking the past few years." He turned, hurrying down in the corridor, clearly not in the mood for having a little chat with his enemies. Obviously nothing had changed since High School.  
  
"But Randall-"  
  
"Stop bleating my name like that!" he shouted back, fed up with everything. He strode down the corridors and, catching sight of a dark little nook hidden away in a corner, wandered into the shadows and laid his head against the wall, his heart beating fast. Randall felt hot and bothered, but he was fair enough not to blame his state on Mike and Sulley. No, in essence, it was Waternoose's fault. He had just asked Randall to build some machine, to do something illegal, and Randall had accepted. He shook his head, annoyed with himself. Why didn't he think it through properly? Why didn't he ask Waternoose if he could sleep on it or something?  
  
But Waternoose _had_ seemed unusually desperate, and something in Randall's mind told him that he wouldn't be too happy about leaving the room without an answer. It was still no excuse though; Randall still should've taken the choice into more consideration.  
  
But it was too late now. He had said yes, and there was no backing out of what he had agreed to.

Not until the end.


	3. Work

Chapter 3- Work

The design had changed dramatically in the two years that Randall had first seen it from the little sketch on a used napkin to become physically possible. The machine was housed, as Waternoose had instructed, in the little lair underneath the sprawling pipes of the factory- the background scenes you can never see without special permission. Beginning as a bare, almost frightening skeleton, the Scream Extractor was an object of ugliness, but as its empty bones were filled with intense mechanics and electronics, and as Randall worked day after day, evening after evening on his creation, it began to take shape and bear resemblance to the lizard-monster's accurate drawing- his final design.

Randall would take any break to be an opportunity to work on the machine which he liked to call the 'SE', disappearing out of sight every minute he wasn't on the Scarefloor. And when the end of day work-bell would ring throughout all the Scarefloors, he would leave his faithful friend, Fungus, to clear up and prepare for the next day whilst he slinked off somewhere only he and his boss knew the location of. Although it took much longer, Randall took his time when working on the machine- every detail had to be absolutely perfect, not to be scrutinized by himself, but by Waternoose and anyone else the dangerous CEO had decided to test it. Therefore, as the design was what Randall was basing the whole structure on, it would have to be flawless, as he knew any unfortunate mistakes would cost him.

Sitting at his desk, Randall held the original design in one hand and the final design in the other. Though they were bred from the same roots, their differences were undeniable. Randall chuckled at the absurdity of his first ideas- he had tried them many a time, but found from experience that they were too ambitious. It was dark in the room- all the curtains had been drawn not only to keep out the darkness, but to ward away anyone that might be curious as to what he was doing, though it was a little silly to predict anyone purposely climbing up a block of flats to the sixth floor just to catch sight of a plan that was too far away from the window for anyone to see in the first place. Randall couldn't help but be cautious though; he knew fully well the dangers of what would happen if word got out, and he couldn't confide even a snippet of information to a single soul. And if Waternoose had doubted him before, Randall's loyalty to the plan would be proven soon enough.

A furious look danced across his face as he screwed up the old design and threw it into the nearby wastepaper basket. There was but one single lamp switched on in the room, and it was pointed directly to the desk, giving Randall maximum visibility concerning what was directly in front of him, but causing his vision to be limited whilst looking around his sitting room and thinking. He could just manage to see the outline of several photo frames propped up on a side-table, the monsters in the pictures a mystery to everyone but Randall. A memory flashed before his eyes- when he had first been unpacking, nearly five years ago to the month, he had come to the final box brashly labelled 'PRIVATE'. Fliss, of course, had been deeply curious the second she had caught sight of the box that Randall had tried so hard to shove away into a corner, and after convincing him to get the stuff out, they had a good rummage through the photos and items that the lizard-monster had prided for nearly the whole of his life- mainly photos, some especially old books and other bits and pieces. Deciding that these special objects should take the pride spot in their humble home, Fliss had then made a little display on a small side-table, hailing the relatives she never knew she had.

Ralph was smiling happily with his wife, Annie, by his side in the largest of the photos. She was looking particularly glum, but even Randall could realise why with ease- in her arms was a delightfully young version of the monster that was currently gazing upon the picture in the darkness- Randall himself. He looked nervous; brows furrowed a little, desperately glancing down at his sister who was hugging their mother on the ground. Randall remembered when this photo was taken quite clearly- the Boggs family had hired a professional photographer one Christmas, wanting to play 'happy families', and though Annie had insisted that Randall be left out of the family photo, or at least be cast out onto the sidelines so Cy and Marie could take centre-stage, the photographer had had a kind heart, making her cradle Randall in her arms. A shiver ran down his spine. The way his mother had held him, as though he was vermin...

The bedroom door which had a big sign stuck up on it saying 'Fliss's Room- Keep Out (unless prepared to hand over generous portions of sweets)' creaked open, desperately in need of an oiling, its inhabitant wide-eyed in the doorway.

"Hey, Fliss," Randall said, a bit _too_ brightly, slipping the SE design underneath some other blank pieces of paper. Fliss rushed in, frightened of what she had left behind her in the depth of the night, or, to be more precise, her dreams and nightmares. She grabbed Randall's tail, rubbing it sentimentally against her face, revelling in the warm, soft scales that brushed against her face. "Fliss?" the owner of the tail repeated, sounding concerned. "What's the matter?" There was a silence except for the screams being pumped through the wires of the lamp suddenly being heard- the lamp was old and the wires were battered, and though Randall knew his own abilities when it came to anything practical and mechanical, this source of light was _waaay_ past its sell-by date. The sudden short scream, along with the sound of the lamp flickering on and off, made Fliss jump. She hugged Randall's tale harder than ever as the scene became more and more frightening, but the lizard-monster eventually had to prise her off him and switch another light on. Both pairs of eyes hurt at the bright light, but any fears that Fliss had had beforehand vanished almost instantly.

"Dad...?" Randall beckoned Fliss to sit on the sofa alongside him, and once she had done so, looked deep into her eyes, wanting an honest answer from the question he was about to ask.

"Have you been having those nightmares again? Huh? Coz if you have, you know you can tell me." Fliss nodded, then, once she had completely took in what he had just said, looked back up at the figure she liked to think of as her father, glaring.

"I'm not a kid anymore. I'm nearly twelve years old, Dad, and I DON'T have nightmares."

"So why'd ya come in here? And what was with the tail-hugging thing? You used to do that when you were really young, y'know- you haven't done that for years." For a second, Fliss's brain worked furiously, trying to think of a believable answer that wasn't too far from the truth, and then looked at Randall in mock shock.

"Dad! God, can't I show you a bit of affection once in a while? Do you _WANT_ me to leave home at sixteen?" Randall put an arm round her shoulders, pulling the person he cared about most in the world closer.

"If I had my way, you wouldn't leave home at all. And, to be completely honest," he sighed, "it took me by surprise for you to show any 'affection', as you put it." Fliss was a little confused, and shuffled away from Randall's comforting touch. Looking up at him as though she didn't know him, Fliss then put on an air of suppressed anger, although inside she was dangerously guilty- dangerously because, if you showed Randall that he had won, in her opinion he would never let you live it down.

"I dunno what you mean..." She mumbled, sounding quite absent-minded.

"Well, that's it!"

"What?"

"You, moving away from me, never hugging me, not even when I do you a favour!" Randall had begun to shout, his heart aching for just a hint of love from his daughter.

"I didn't realise you were so...lovey-dovey."

"I'M NOT!" Randall balled his fists, willing himself to calm down. But, as he closed his eyelids, all he could see was red. "I'm not...But just because I don't go around giving strangers hugs doesn't mean that I don't expect one from my own daughter once in a while-"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT! I'M NOT YOUR DAUGHTER!" Tears flowed down Fliss's cheek in a gush, as though it was rain- at first, there had been a little hazy shower, but now there was a fierce, raging thunderstorm. And though Fliss wasn't Randall's daughter, it was obvious to see where she got her short, blasting temper from. Randall flinched at the outburst, clutching at her hands as though he had been scorched by the harsh words that she had said. "WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!?" Fliss stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her and leaving a numb Randall behind her.

Feeling as though his emotions had just been devoured by the angry beast held within Fliss, Randall sat back on the sofa, trying not to react to what had just happened. Fliss had done this many times before- they would begin their conversation harmlessly, but soon it would turn sour and always seemed to end up circling around the fact that Fliss wasn't Randall's daughter, but her niece. It wasn't something that Randall ever liked to admit to, though admitting that he even had a girl of Fliss's age lodging with him in his apartment wouldn't bear thinking about. He had been lucky though- the social services were all ready to come and take Fliss away, but after a closer study of her documentation, they realised something very vital- that she was, in essence, a reptilian-monster. And though the social services would deal with all cases and situations, no matter how extreme it may have been, they thought it best to leave a lizard-monster in the hands of a lizard-monster, which, in a way, made sense. They didn't take into consideration how much Randall was earning, or where he was living because they just didn't care.

It wasn't surprising, really. Actually, people not caring seemed to be the story of Randall's entire life. But _Fliss _not caring...It was something that Randall truly dreaded. He couldn't live without Fliss's love, he really couldn't because, over the past five years or so, he found that he had depended on it. It was the only source of caring he had, after all, and losing it was Randall's worst nightmare. This was exactly why, though the whole argument technically wasn't his fault, he had to go and apologise. Randall was known to be a proud monster, not big-headed as such, (well, most of the time) but very proud, and to apologise to something that blatantly wasn't his fault was an activity he had done very few times. But this time, he had no choice. He couldn't lose Fliss. He just couldn't.

Creeping to the bedroom door that Fliss had shut so forcefully only minutes before, Randall took several deep breaths, deciding that, yes, this was the right thing to do, and ventured into the unknown.

Fliss was sprawled across her almost thread-bare bed, her soft-toys peering down at her evilly from a high shelf, having been moved out of their usual spot on her windowsill, replaced by make-up and bracelets. Randall had bought her each of her accessories one by one, every Christmas and Birthday so she no longer had to ask. But, when Fliss had first brought the idea forward of her 'growing-up' and needing new stuff to play with, Randall had been completely against it. In his eyes, a girl of Fliss's age should still be playing with her plastic horses and Arrbies, not dressing up as though she were an adult. He had already missed the first six years of her precious life, and for her to be maturing faster than she should've been was something that downright scared him.

"Fliss? Felicity?" The girl that Randall had once been able to cradle in his arms with ease sat up, holding her special toy, Jud Green, by the neck. She wiped her eyes with the old toy, then, once satisfied, pulled up her bed-covers and tried not to look at Randall.

"If you've come to say you're sorry, there's no point." Randall was seriously worried, not to mention anxious, at what Fliss had just said and the way she had said it- there was a definite air about her voice, as though what she was saying were the most important words ever to be uttered in the history of Monster-kind. "Because..._I'M_ sorry." Being cautious and checking that this was the right thing to do, Randall went right into Fliss's tiny room and sat down on her bed, looking out the window. The curtains had not yet been drawn, so the white, milky light of the moon flooded the room, shining over Randall and Fliss as they hugged.

----------------------------------

The end-of-shift work-bell rung out across the Scarefloors, signalling the conclusion of another tiring day. The Scarer's assistants hurried to finish off the last remaining jobs and the Scarers, exhausted but satisfied, left their workstations in little clusters, dabbing their own foreheads with towels and chattering amongst themselves. Putting a hand up to Fungus and letting him get on with it, Randall too made his way across the Scarefloor that had been like a home to him for the past five years, but didn't notice his boss waiting in the corridor leading to F. At the last second, Waternoose seemed to spring out the shadows, grabbing Randall's arm and roughly pulling him aside. Sudden panic overcame the lizard-monster as to who this might be, but as he recognised the grim face of Monsters, Inc.'s CEO, he sighed with relief.

"What do you want, Waternoose?" Waternoose's face remained in the same gloomy expression, but he continued the conversation as though he only knew Randall as another one of his employees, nothing more, though to say nothing less would be a lie.

"I was wondering if my Top Scarer could do me a favour." Randall rolled his eyes. He knew the second he would start talking to Waternoose that his boss would begin to layer on the complements and such, especially when there was something in it for him. It seemed as though he wouldn't do anything unless there were profits to be made out of it. Folding his arms, Randall coughed the once, nodding slightly to Fungus who had come over with a worried look upon his face, and made a strong form of eye-contact with Waternoose.

"And this favour would be what, exactly?" And though he had the urge to be as insulting and sarcastic as possible, he knew fully well what the situation was, and making it worse was the stupidest thing that anyone could do.

"There's someone I've been keeping an eye on recently. His name is James P. Sullivan."

"What, the janitor?" Waternoose gave Randall a very dismissive look, making the lizard-monster think better than to start insulting other workers. "Yeah, I know him. Why've you been keeping an eye on him? He's not involved with anything...dodgy, is he?"

"Oh, no no, nothing like that!" Waternoose suddenly had a nervous edge about him, but managed to maintain his poise. "No, you see, I've been watching him and find him to be quite...talented, shall we say, in certain areas of his work."

"Really?" Randall rose his eyebrows. "Yes, I've noticed it too- the floors have been absolutely sparkling, and, oh, don't even get me STARTED on the toilets-"

"If you're going to make a joke out of everything, than I suggest you work as a comedian elsewhere." The atmosphere grew even tenser, and Randall tried to act more co-operative, wanting to convince Waternoose that he had made the right decision trusting one of his employees, though the Scream Extractor, according to Randall, wasn't anything to do with what Waternoose was talking about. Or so he thought.

"Okay, okay...so you think he's _talented._ What's that got to do with me?"

"I think that James has the potential to be a Scarer." Before Randall could say anything, Waternoose had prodded him in the chest. "And that you have the potential to be a Trainer. Not full time, of course, just when we need someone who has real experience of being out there, in the Human World, scaring children. As my father always used to say, 'Lack of experience hinders learning'." Randall blinked a few times, trying to digest what his boss had just said. He couldn't train he? And even if he could, did he WANT to? Training one of your mortal enemies isn't exactly what Randall had in mind when he wrote up his job application for Monsters, Inc. But, then again, it would be a brilliant opportunity for him to show Sullivan what it takes to get into such a foremost and renowned position in the company. He could really rub it in- prove to him that Randall had changed since the days of him being a victim of bullying. Now Randall was tougher, was more successful, and he wanted EVERYONE to know it. This was perfect.

Randall must've been looking very worried, because as he thought through all of these complicated ideas, wondering what he should do, Waternoose had put an arm round his upper set of shoulders and squeezed him tightly. "I don't have a smidgeon of doubt in you, Randall. I know you can do this."

"But, sir, the Scream Ex-"

"I'll stretch the deadline another week if you do this for me." This made the offer a lot more tempting, but would just one more week make up for hours and hours of training with his arch enemy? "Two weeks." It was as though Waternoose had read Randall's mind.

"Sullivan still needs all that training though, in the Simulator room. How's he gonna get that if he's already began to do practical work with me? I mean, if he does the full one-hundred hours, as all employees are meant to..." The squeezing grew stronger.

"As I said, Randall, the boy has _talent._ Bucketfuls of the stuff. He doesn't need all that training malarkey. All he needs is a good PRACTICAL Trainer- someone who can show him how it's done when it comes to the real thing." Randall shook his head, trying to back away a little and escape Waternoose's clutches.

"And what about all those other Training Scarers who have 'talent'? You gonna give them the same treatment as Sullivan?" Waternoose seemed to be very taken aback by these questions, wondering where his Top Scarer had found the guts to speak to his own boss in such a degrading manner.

"Are you questioning my instinct?"

"Yes. I am. I'm also questioning whether you should even be in this job in the first place because, recently, I've really begun to doubt you. I think a CEO of a company as big as this should be able to get on with the job without having to refer to...illegalities, shall we say?"

"How DARE you!" Waternoose rose higher, suddenly becoming very fierce. "You are in no position WHATSOEVER to be questioning my authority!" His tone went suddenly quiet. "You know what I can do to you."

"No, but that's the thing, Waternoose. You USED to be able to threaten me. But now, funnily enough, the tables have turned. I'M in control. Ya wanna know how I worked that out? You're relying on me to build the machine. And if you get rid of me, I can't build the machine. Which means you're stuck."

"How can I be?" Waternoose chuckled. "I could ask someone else to build the machine as easily as I asked you, and how do you know that I'll be stuck if there IS no machine in the end? If I can't find anyone?" Waternoose chuckled confidently.

"I don't know. But one thing I DO know is that you're desperate. Why else would you threaten to banish me? And I doubt that there are THAT many monsters in here that would have as much dedication to the SE as I have, let alone being able to actually build it in the first place." Waternoose refused to let Randall know that he had won, instead changing the conversation back to its origins.

"So will you train James? Will you help a fellow employee?" Randall looked down at the ground, deep in thought, and when he looked back up to Waternoose again, he had decided.

"Yes."


	4. Arrangements

Chapter 4- Arrangements

Randall had spent so long down there, every evening right on through the night, working until his muscles ached and his hands shook. Sleep was a thing of the past, as were decent meals. Now, the lizard-monster just sent his only friend, Fungus, to get him some snacks from the vending machine during the day, instructing him to leave the food on the desk at their station, ready for him to collect whenever he pleased. He wasn't worried about Fungus suspecting anything- the small, red and incredibly short-sighted monster was very intellectual, but seemed to lack the gift of common sense.

Today had been a horrible day, mainly thanks to Waternoose for managing to convince Randall to accept his offer of training Sulley, but Randall knew that he wouldn't be able to start that evening- it was far too late. No, Sullivan would have to wait until tomorrow for the good news.

But though Randall had other things on his mind, that evening was similar to many before it- the constant clanging of the pipes in Randall's little hideaway that he had inherited from his brother was added to by his own soft grumbling and the squeak of a screw being driven in by his screwdriver. It was growing intensely dark, and, once Randall's precious Scream Extractor had been built to fold away into the roof, any sources of outside light would be diminished. But, for now, a solemn sky-light remained untouched, and the stars that could be seen through it glittered and sparkled like luminous paint splattered across black card. The only visible part of Randall's body was his gently flicking tail, the rest of him beneath the machine, working on its underside.

Eventually, Randall came out from there, pulling himself along the ground, and stood up shakily. He scooped down to the ground one last time, remembering something, and brought out a torch that was flickering pathetically. It had nearly run out of batteries, but Randall wasn't sure if he'd ever have the time to buy some more. Or...he _could_ ask Fungus...And it wasn't as though Randall was constantly asking him for favours, other than to baby-sit Fliss at times. He'd rather not be talking to him all the time- Fungus could be very _annoying_ almost constantly, so Randall thought to keep his distance when possible.

He swept back his fronds with an oily hand, feeling slightly faint. A clock that looked broken was sat on Randall's wobbly desk, propped up against rolls of old plans and designs seemed to scream the time- ten to four, and it wasn't in the afternoon. Rubbing his eyes slowly, Randall scraped back the chair of his desk, which was also covered with loose bits of unused paper, and shoved everything else aside until he found what he was looking for- a spare Gummy-Goo bar. He sat down on the floor, not bothering with clearing his chair to sit on, and unwrapped the snack. It had melted after hours, maybe even days underneath all of those papers, but it was enough for Randall. He would eat anything to settle his grumbling stomach, though a measly Gummy-Goo bar wouldn't make much difference.

As he munched, he began to think. Randall thought about what he would do next for the Scream Extractor, whether he'd be able to make the deadline, what Fliss was doing at that very second...Probably sleeping. Or, at least, she SHOULD be sleeping. That is, if Fungus had done his job. Or maybe...maybe she was unhappy. Maybe the nightmares had come back again- it wouldn't be surprising; they seemed to have been coming on a daily basis for quite a while. Several years, in fact. Actually, about the time Waternoose first told Randall about the Scream Extractor, when he had to start working the late nights, not being able to go home at a reasonable time for days on end. But when the SE had begun to take up the weekends Fliss had completely lost it. When Randall would get back in the early-evening, she refused to speak to him. Then, when she would gradually give in to the idea of going to bed, she wouldn't sleep a wink. Randall knew- he would camouflage his scales and creep into her room, watching her toss and turn and cry.

CLANK! Something screeched in the pipes above, startling Randall. He dropped the empty wrapper, forgetting about it for the time being, and eyed the control panel several feet away from where he lay. He knew that he would have to start working on it that evening, or morning as it had become, if he wanted to keep up with the deadline, but he had to be ready to start training Sulley and desperately needed some sleep. And one thing that Randall absolutely refused to do was to go two whole days without visiting his apartment. But the control panel beckoned...he could just a small job on it...but what about Fliss...?

Staggering to his feet once more, the clanging above echoing in his ears and making his headache grow worse, Randall wandered over to the control panel, looking down at it sadly with heavily bagged eyes. He brushed back his fronds once more and got to work, a pained expression on his face all the while.

It would've taken Randall three or four hours to do the 'small' job, but he only managed to get through about half of it. The last few hours of his morning were spent sleeping erratically and deeply, resting his head upon his arms on the panel, his thoughts filled with pictures and images of Fliss.

-------------------------

The mop was dunked in the bucket with a sloshing sound, wrung, and then splattered across the floor, being pulled backwards and forwards roughly. Sulley was in a very bad mood that evening, and it was all because of Randall. The lizard-monster had stormed up to him in the morning, accusing him and Mike of spoiling his life and ruining his opportunities. Sulley had stood there, awestruck at these allegations, wondering what Randall was talking about, but before he could ask, Randall had shoved him aside and strode down the corridor.

There was obviously something happening behind the scenes in Randall's life- whenever the opportunity had arisen and the head of the janitorial staff asked Sulley to clean the floors near Scarefloor F, the furry would have a quick peek inside, watching the Scarers as they worked. Running in and out at an amazing speed but not seeming to tire, the Scarers had been highly trained to be able to do their job properly, but, seeing Randall and his stealth, the hours of work and practising in the simulator room were all a waste- they would never be as good as him. Randall had a natural instinct when it came to scaring- he seemed to be able to sense what was running through the children's minds and came out of almost every door satisfied. But recently, as Sulley peered round the corner, smiling at his best friend, Mike, egging on his own Scarer, he had noticed a sort of slump in Randall's step, a dullness in his eyes, and when he went to scare, he acted as though he couldn't be bothered, as though there was no need for scream.

Something was going on, and Sulley was eager to find out, though he knew he wasn't exactly welcome when it came to helping himself find out personal events in Randall's life. He leant on his mop for a second, thinking, then dropped it back into the bright yellow bucket, picking up a cloth and shining one of many photos labelled 'Scarer Of The Month'. It was the most recent one, given only a week ago, and as Sulley cleaned it, looking at the other Randalls staring at him along the row, he noticed something different about the photos of more recent compared to the photos of a year ago, other than the fact that, back then, Randall had actually been trying to make an effort to smile (though he wasn't really succeeding)- in the more recent ones, the bags under his eyes were very distinct and his scales, which were usually shiny and used to look as though they had just been buffed, instead had a sort of dull and lifeless appearance. There were other changes that Sulley could see, but he didn't seem to be able to name them- they were more subconscious inklings than anything. And though he and Randall were enemies, Sulley liked to think that he knew Randall quite well, though their relationship was nothing of the sort.

But Randall wasn't the only one that had been acting strangely in the past few months. Henry Waternoose had been a lot more...cheerful in general, sometimes stopping to talk to Sulley whilst he was working, which had taken him by surprise- he had never thought it the boss's place to talk to someone of his level. It had meant, though, that Sulley had gotten to know the aged CEO quite well, and a small promotion definitely seemed to be up for grabs.

Content with the gleam that shone on the glass of the photo, Sulley turned around, ready to pick up his bucket, when he saw something very strange. His new mop (a birthday present from Mike which did, admittedly, cause a slight rift between the two friends and did, admittedly, mean many sleepless nights for their neighbours and did, admittedly, end up with one of the two threatening to move out until they realised that they had been arguing over a mop) was moving by itself, wiping the floor with nowhere near as much effort as Sulley would put into cleaning. It then dunked itself into the bucket, was wrung once more and continued wiping. Sulley dropped the cloth that he had been holding in shock, mouth agape.

"I wouldn't enjoy this as a full time job. Cleaning the same corridors, day in, day out...Jeez, it must get boring! But that's not what I'm here to talk about." A peculiar sound was to be heard at that moment, one that couldn't really be described as anything but scales moving and rubbing against scales, and Randall appeared. He carried on cleaning the floor for a few seconds more, then put the mop away and dusted off his hands. "No, what I'm here to talk about...is a lot more important." Sulley had gotten over the shock by this point, and found himself to be quite annoyed with Randall.

"Are you going to apologise for this morning? Is that why you're here?" Randall folded his lower arms, resting his head on an upper hand, and carried on as though he hadn't heard what the increasingly frustrated furry had said. Wagging a finger at one of his pictures, he flicked his tail like a cat, giving Sulley a very firm form of eye-contact.

"You missed a spot." The janitor was confused almost immediately. "On my photo. Surprising, really- for two reasons." Randall unfolded his arms and swiftly swept the cloth that Sulley had dropped off the floor, picking it up and walking over to the photo in question. He rubbed it in a circular motion after breathing on the glass and made sure that his portrait was perfect. As he did so, he began to speak in a leisurely manner but was, for some reason, quite quiet. "Firstly, that Waternoose has been impressed with your...cleaning," he muttered, struggling to find the appropriate word. "He's very impressed, Sullivan. Very. And, secondly, since you had been gawping at the thing for such a long time, I would've thought that you'd notice the spot. Or maybe you wouldn't have. Maybe you didn't for a reason..." He spun round, and, rather than narrow his eyes as he was prone and known to do, instead widened them a little, looking very honest. "Maybe you were thinking about something. Hmm?" Handing over the cloth, Randall then, with hands on hips, licked his upper lip slowly, deep in thought himself for a moment or two, then snapped back to reality.

"But Randall, oh, _sir_," Sulley caught himself as Randall glared. "I don't know what you're talking about. And what I think in my own time is my business. Sir."

"I agree with you on the most part, except that, yeah, what you think about in your own time is your business, but I don't think at work, doing your job, is your own time. And if ya do, then Waternoose is crazy to be promoting you."

"But SIR, you...What do you mean 'promo-"Randall rolled his eyes tiredly.

"I meant what I said. You're being promoted."

"To Head Janitor?!" Sulley exclaimed in excitement.

"You have very high expectations of yourself, don'tcha?" Taking a deep breath, Randall steadied himself. No matter how much he would enjoy training Sulley, he knew that telling him would be his worst nightmare. "No. Not 'Head Janitor' or whatever. Scarer." To his surprise, Sulley shook his head slowly and looked up at Randall with gentle anger.

"That was a very cruel joke to play, Randall."

"What? Do I LOOK like I'm playin' a joke? HUH? Oh for...Fine then. You obviously don't want this job-"

"What's it got to do with you anyway?"

"I'VE got the happy task of training you. But since you don't want to be promoted..."

"I'm not falling for your trick, Randall. I know how your mind works-"

"Oh, really? Ya do, do ya?" Randall scoffed. "I doubt it. Oh, I'm just wasting my time doing this, aren't I?"

"If you're being serious-"

"Just shut up and listen to me. If you want this job, I'll see you at my station in ten minutes. If you're not there by then, well, I'm not waiting for you. I just can't be bothered anymore." Taking a step back, Sulley suddenly saw Randall in a very different light.

"You're not lying, are you?" he said, figuring it out as he went along. Randall literally threw his hands up at this remark.

"Of course I'm not you dummy! D'ya really think I'd tell you a lie that'd make you HAPPY? Huh?" He turned around, still incredibly infuriated but disbelieving at the fact that it took Sulley so long to realise that he was telling the truth, and walked down the corridor, heading towards his Scarefloor.

"The offer still stands, right?" Sulley called out after him. He held up a hand, exhausted, and called out behind himself.

"Ten minutes."

-------------------------

Dark and shadowy, Scarefloor F looked quite frightening, but it also seemed very uncanny not to have all the Scarers and their assistants there, getting on with their jobs. When the Scarefloor was empty, it just didn't look right. But, technically, this Scarefloor wasn't empty, Sulley realised as he slowly swung open the door. Randall was there, just as he had said, sitting at his desk and sipping a cup of coffee in the darkness.

Noticing the sudden bright shaft of light let in by the ajar door, the lizard-monster got up, leaving his coffee, and proceeded with setting up a door, much to Sulley's surprise. He walked over to Randall hurriedly, wondering what he was doing and getting a little flustered.

"Randall, sir, wait!" he called out, now jogging. "What are you doing?"

"The can-can." Sulley blinked, very confused, and Randall took note of this. "And, by the looks of it, telling pathetic jokes." He turned around, the door prepared, and went to a light switch on a far wall, turning the shiny silver knobs until there was enough luminous yellow light in the room. Sulley stayed by the door, still worried. "Relax, Sullivan," Randall said calmly, not bothering to turn around. "We're gonna do a little training before you get a chance in _there._" He looked at the door pointedly. "It's for me, okay?" Nodding mutely, Sulley put his hands behind his back, seeming to stand to attention as Randall went back to his desk to finish off the gooey form of coffee that he had gotten at the vending machine earlier. He then stood right in front of the giant furry monster, looking up into his eyes, then down at the rest of him, beginning to circle the rookie. "Good size...large claws...strong tail...smile."

Sulley grinned fakely, looking more anxious than ever, his lips stretching taut over his gums. Randall nodded in a sort of reply, finishing off his beverage and placing his cup on a paper-work covered table. "Not bad teeth...Roar for me. C'mon, roar, growl, whatever you're best at." Before bending over to do as he was told, Sulley looked over both shoulders, checking that no-one was near enough to hear what was happening. He then clenched his teeth, growling softly, sounding like a pussy-cat purring. "That all you got? Huh? A worthless little 'grrr'?" As Randall carried on with his reverse form of psychology, telling his trainee how the kids would rather stroke him than scream at him, the soft growls became loud growls, the loud growls became roars, and the roars eventually became exactly what Randall had been waiting and hoping for- something that would most definitely scare the human children.

"ARRRRRRRGHHHH!" Sulley belted out, throwing his arms up and rising over Randall, whose fronds had actually been blown back as though he were right in the middle of a gale-force wind. Once the silence of the Scarefloor at night had returned again, Sulley having howled until his throat practically ached, waiting for what his sly Trainer thought of his efforts, Randall looked up at him once again, then turned around without a word, facing the door. He pressed a button on the panel, causing a dim red light to flash on, and, just before creaking open the door, decided that a complement was needed. As he went back to his desk for the final time, picking up a sunset yellow piece of paper that Sulley had only just noticed, he took a deep breath and tried to swallow his pride.

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow, at the same time. But don't forget," he added, holding a finger up, "all of this doesn't make a difference to who we are. On the Scarefloor, yes, I'm the Trainer and you're the pupil. But elsewhere, we're still enemies. Do yourself a favour and remember that." Then, disappearing through the door in a blur of scales and limbs, the yellow paper being barely visible, Randall was gone.

After a minute or two of intense thought, Sulley was gone as well, down the corridors and to the janitor's closet, packing away his mops and such for one of the last times.

It was humid in the jungle- more humid than Randall had expected. He shook his head to himself, brushing away a palm-tree leaf that was in his face, and turned over the piece of paper. Squinting at the badly written directions, the lizard-monster muttered something to himself before folding it back up, the message on the other side also unreadable to a point. But that didn't matter to him, of course- all the instructions were was to follow the directions, remember which way he had gone, give the message to them, and then make his way back. It wouldn't be too hard, as long as he didn't get lost.

Randall turned around, looking at the door, and then looked around it, trying to make out something that would be a sort of landmark as to make it easier for him to get back and remember the whereabouts of his portal home. Only a few meters behind him seemed to be an object that was reasonably noticeable and easy to remember- a giant, almost blood-red tree, the leaves turning from their usual shades of the most delicious emerald to a dull, muddy brown. And, by the looks of it, there were no others of this sort of tree anywhere else, which certainly helped matters.

Satisfied that he would be able to get back, Randall re-read the directions several times, trying to make sense of them, and then began to trek his way through the thick jungle, hoping that the wildlife that flourished in it wouldn't manage to deter him from his task.

-------------------------

"Well, don't you think we should get on with the most important matters first? Yes, I understand that it is late, but you DID say to call whenever I wished...no, no, of course not." The fire blazing and writhing in one corner of the reasonably-sized office was the only light to be seen, and as the flames devoured the wood beneath it, letting off the warm energy that Waternoose was practically basking in, the CEO began to swivel his chair from side to side, but still making sure that he was still basically facing the fire. The portraits of his family looked eviller than ever in the eerie light, but he hadn't noticed- what he was dealing with, at that moment, on the phone was by far more of an important subject. He glanced at the grandfather clock to his left, reading the time as the monster on the other end of the receiver spoke in a hushed, deep, rumbling voice.

"I completely understand. Yes, my messenger is on the way at this very moment. Pardon?" Waternoose sat up properly, on edge. "Of course I trust him with this! If I didn't trust him, I wouldn't have sent him! I can see how you might feel...unsure of Boggs, but he really is one of a kind regarding his outward appearance." There was a pause, and soon after outrage was blasted into the room. "He is trustworthy! I ASSURE you of that! Yes, yes, he might be a scaley...No, he's nothing like his brother. You think I would tell him THAT?!" A fist was slammed on the desk. "He has not a clue what is going on, and he never will! And he's doing absolutely superb with the machine- I sent one of the helpers down there to check the other day, and he really is making progress. But sir, don't you see how suitable he was for the job? Young, naïve, desperate to prove himself to others...and he'll be even more desperate soon- I have a very clever plan, and it involves a member of our janitorial staff, James Sullivan. The name might not mean much now, but in the future, the boy'll be doing every advert for Monsters, Incorporated, and will be a role model for all of those young 'uns that want to be Scarers when they grow up."

It was the other person's chance to talk then, asking questions in an intrigued manner and secretly hoping that Waternoose would have an answer for every one of them, which is exactly what he had. "Ah, but that's where it gets complicated. And I'VE found a way around it- it doesn't matter whether Sullivan is good at his new job or not, as long as the monsters in the figure department get it right. That's EXACTLY what I'm talking about- we're not going to make any radical changes with the numbers; just enough to keep Sullivan a step ahead and Boggs a step behind. The boy'll do anything for a taste of respect, you can trust me on that one." Waternoose leaned back in his chair as before, having discussed the 'touchy' matters.

"Now, as for the 'scream shortages', well, you could say I've had a little 'brainwave' on the matter..."


	5. A Helping Hand

Chapter 5- A Helping Hand

Walking to work had become a particularly tedious activity over the past few weeks, all thanks to Fungus. The little red monster had moved recently to a new apartment over the other side of town, and though there were obvious upsides to this for him, living within a five-minute walking distance from Monsters, Inc., for example, Randall found it very easy to point out the downsides. They now lived just a few blocks apart, much to the lizard-monster's dismay- Fungus, with a bit of research, had found out exactly what time Randall would leave for work each morning, wanting to walk with him for most of the way. And though Randall made the effort some mornings to leave ten minutes earlier or later than usual, Fungus would somehow manage to be there, waiting on his doorstep with that annoyingly happy smile stretched across his face.

This was one of those mornings. Leaning over to give a drowsy Fliss a hug goodbye, Randall whispered a quick "I'll see ya later," and was about to go out the room before he remembered something. "Oh, Fliss?" he said, shaking her gently. He waited for her to groan irritably before carrying on. "Since I won't be home 'til late, Fungus is gonna look after you for a bit, alright?" This made Fliss wake up properly. She opened her eyes, outraged.

"But Dad! You promised me you'd be here tonight! You gave me your word!"

"I know, I know..." As Randall edged his way out the room, he blurted out an excuse, noticing the time. "Waternoose had asked me to...err...do another errand, so I'm really busy-"

"Oh, whatever."

"No, seriously! Look, I swear I'll make it up to you." Fliss gave him a dismissive look, turning her head the other way and folding her arms. "I _swear._" Knowing that he could do no more, Randall rushed out the room, grabbing his keys and lunchbox, and took a glimpse at his own reflection in the mirror before swinging the door open and pushing an expectant Fungus aside. He then stopped in his tracks, his friend looking at him hopefully, and turned around.

"Hey there, Fungus," he began, his voice smooth yet undeniably sweet. Fungus was right to be nervous. "Let's walk and talk." They carefully made their way down several flights of broken and/or cracked stairs, plaster crumbling off the walls as they went, Randall's voice echoing up and down the corridors. "Y'know, Fungus, you've been a very good friend..." He drifted off as he manoeuvred his body down a particularly tricky section of stairs, wanting to opt for the easy road- climbing down via the walls- but, as he saw another large chunk of plaster fall to the corridor below, he decided that the way he was going, though perilous, was a lot safer. "You've been a good friend to me," he said, picking up from where he had left off. "And I know you've done me a lotta favours, but I might just have to ask another favour from you. Now, before you say anything, I know you've been busy lately, with your grandmother an' all," He breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the bottom, which was nothing compared to how overjoyed Fungus was to come to the end of the staircase. "But I wouldn't ask you if I wasn't desperate."

"Well, um, what is it?" Randall sighed, looking around the two of them. They were currently in what was previously a reception area- a dusty, rubble covered desk could be seen in one corner, crudely snapped in half, with a log-in book barely visible having slid halfway down the huge crack. The lights, which were off, looked antique and were ornately decorated in curling silver metal, and the floor, which was, unlike anything else in this block of mainly unused flats, a thing of beauty, was one-hundred percent Monstropolian mosaic. There was no light except for the sun's rays streaming in through two very small windows on either side of the shaky wooden door that led outside, and as Randall scooped down to retrieve the day's mail, the obscure sunlight danced over his scales, making him squint momentarily. He shuffled through the letters, not wanting to answer the question, and growled at bill after bill.

"Ya see, Fungus," he started in a quiet voice, sounding very absent, "I'm gonna be working quite late tonight and..."

"You want me to look after Fliss?" Randall looked up, heaving a sigh, and placed the bills on a dusty side-table, nodding slowly.

"Yeah...if you wouldn't mind..." Fungus suddenly grinned toothily, jumping over to the door and hauling it open.

"No problem, Randall! Anything for a friend!"

"Okay..." As they stepped outside, the early morning sunlight blinding them, Randall began to feel very guilty, as though he was taking advantage of his only friend. "Y'know, Fungus...ya don't have to walk to work with me _every_ morning if ya don't want to. I mean, isn't it a bit of an..._annoyance_ having to get up at half four every day?" Fungus swept a hand through the air, brushing the concern away.

"I don't mind at all! Though I still don't understand _why _you get up so early. I know we have a lot of paper work-"

"We've talked about this before, Fungus, and you know the reasons. I can't afford to start slacking." They walked the remainder of the way in silence, Randall yawning every now and then and Fungus peering up at him in a fretful manner. Randall hadn't noticed anything different about the way Fungus had been acting towards him for the past few weeks- except for the random, weird smiles and being happier overall- but Fungus HAD noticed something very different about Randall. The silence would've continued for a lot longer if the backward-kneed Scare Assistant hadn't had the guts to say something.

"Randall...don't you think you've been working _too_ hard lately?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Fungus. Maybe if you were a little more precise...?" Rubbing his hands together nervously, Fungus suddenly realised that he was out of his depth in this situation, and found that he didn't want to carry on. Nevertheless, he was prepared to clarify his question.

"I-I mean, you've seemed very, um, tired and-"

"Not you too," Randall growled. He rolled his eyes, but understood that the only reason Fungus was concerned was because they were friends, and Randall hadn't had too many of those. He had to make this best of this one. "I'm fine."

"But you've been d-different and-"

"I said I'm _fine._" Threading a hand through his fronds, Randall knew that he had to make up yet another excuse otherwise Fungus would just keep digging deeper and deeper. How many excuses he had made over the past few months, Randall had no idea, and it was all that Scream Extractor's fault, Waternoose's fault. "Thanks for the concern, but it's nothing." Still peering up at Randall, Fungus continued to persist with what he started until he would get to the bottom of it all.

"Being Top Scarer for such a long period of time must be very exhausting, though. Are you sure..." Closing his eyes in annoyance, Randall stopped walking, letting Fungus carry on to no-one, and, with a swooshing sound, turned invisible. It took Fungus a few seconds to fully realise that Randall had gone, and when he did understand what had happened, he scurried away as quickly as he could, wanting to get to Monsters, Inc. before his friend arrived.

Fungus burst through the doors, puffing and panting, and stumbled up to the Reception's desk. He stayed there for several minutes, trying to catch his breath, and once he had recovered, wandered over to the clocking-in cards. Randall's had already been punched for the AM, so he obviously had arrived before Fungus. The short red monster began to panic- he had wanted to ask around as to whether anyone had any idea why Randall had been so strange lately. Fungus had even wanted to go as far as asking the company's boss, Waternoose, since Randall's excuse every time had been that he was on another errand for the CEO. But if Randall ever found out that Fungus had been asking around...

There was no-one to ask anyway, so the situation wasn't too bad. Fungus figured that he would just have to try again tomorrow. The problem was, with each day Randall seemed to be getting worse in all aspects- the way he looked, his mood- and it wasn't doing his reputation much good either. Therefore, he had to try and get this all sorted out, and he had to get it sorted quickly.

Fungus fidgeted, not knowing what to do with himself. He could try and find Randall, but, at that moment he didn't really feel like putting on an act in front of the lizard-monster- it was just too much hard work. Or he could wait for someone to come, say, Celia, and ask them a few questions...

This seemed to be the better idea, but the only comfortable place to wait, it seemed, was the Games Room. There wouldn't be anyone there which meant Fungus could have a bit of much-needed alone time, and at least it gave him something to do. He did as he thought, ending up reading the newspaper alone, the electronic sounds of the games-machines whirring in the background.

------------------------

"See ya later, my beloved Shmoopsie-Poo!" Mike waved frantically before twirling on the spot, Sulley just lifting a hand up to Celia before dragging his friend away from Reception.

"Come _on_ Mike, I've gotta get my stuff." Mike's little act faded away at the sincerity of the furry, and he bounded up to him, wanting to ask a question.

"Well, since you're getting trained do you REALLY need to carry on with the whole janitor thing? What's the point?"

"The point is to keep Monsters, Incorporated clean. I haven't been promoted yet, Mike." They had reached the point in the corridor where they would split up, Mike going to Scarefloor F and Sulley carrying on down to the garbage disposal for the daily check-up. As they departed, Mike reminded Sulley of a conversation they had had earlier that morning.

"You gonna tell me who that Trainer is yet? Or is it still all a 'big secret'? Come ON Sul, you've been training for weeks now and you still won't tell me?!" Getting slightly agitated, Sulley grabbed hold of his friend, looking down at him sternly.

"I am not telling you who's training me, and I'm not telling you how much longer it's going to be. Now leave it, Mike." He eventually let go, making sure that Mike got the idea, but both turned their heads at another voice bouncing off the walls.

"Sullivan! Here! NOW!"

-------------------

Fungus put the newspaper down on a side-table, jumping as some Scarers came into the Games Room for a bit of early-morning rivalry, and quickly hopped out, smiling nervously. As he reached the main foyer, he was relieved to see that Celia had arrived and was doing her daily business behind the Reception desk, beginning to answer the first calls of the morning. Leaping up to the Reception yet having to attract Celia's attention by calling up at her, (he was far too short to be seen) Fungus continued to jump about excitedly, seeming quite hyperactive. It took the receptionist several seconds to realise that there was someone jabbering to her, and to understand what he was saying, but once he had finished, she stood up straight again, wondering what all the bother was about.

"Where Randall is? Oh...umm, let me see now...Well, I did see him going down the corridor to some Scarefloors earlier, though I don't know whether he's still there..."

"Which Scarefloors?"

"Probably F and the others in the same corridor- he is on that Scarefloor after all. What's all the panic about?" Fungus took some deep, steadying breaths, knowing that he had overreacted.

"Nothing much, I'll just be off now- bye!" He took three large steps before swivelling back round again (which made Celia have to change her what's-wrong-with-HIM? expression to a pleasantly surprised expression) and returning to Reception. "Oh, Celia!"

"Yes, Fungus?"

"I was wondering, um," he began, turning his voice down a notch or two and acting as though he was passing on some kind of a secret which, in essence, he was. "if you could, this evening I think, look after Randall's...you know, daughter, Felicity? Just because there's been, err, unforeseen circumstances and I can't look after her..." Celia nodded, understanding why he was acting all hush-hush.

"Okay, what time should I go round to his? Or maybe it'd be better if I talked to him about it myself-"

"NO! I mean, no, no, that's unnecessary- I can tell him myself. You should go about, say, well, any time right after work, it's not like Felicity is a baby or anything, so. Yes." Giving Fungus a slightly bewildered look, Celia remained silent for a little bit before remembering what he had talked to her about in the first place.

"Don't you have to catch Randall...?"

"Yes, err, bye!" Fungus skidded along the waxed floor, hoping to catch up with his colleague, and as soon as he began to make his way down the Scarefloor corridor, he heard a distinct Hoosier accent, which just could not be mistaken for anyone else in the company. It was short and sharp today though, meaning that Randall was in a bad mood.

Catching sight of a flash of purple, Fungus had a stupid idea. He hid in the shadows of a corner and peeked round, watching the scene. Mike was looking particularly distraught as his best buddy humbly walked up to Randall, and soon left, feeling outcast, which left Sulley and, of course, Randall.

"You haven't been talking about...about the training, have you? Because if you have..." the lizard-monster began quietly after checking that no-one was eavesdropping. Sulley looked taken aback, lifting his hands defensively.

"No, no, of course not!" Randall sighed.

"Good." Once again, he looked from side to side, giving barely ay attention to the monster he was talking to. "Should we go somewhere more private?" Shrugging, Sulley's mind began to turn. Why was Randall suddenly so anxious, so uptight?

"Depends what we're talking about." Randall folded his arms, deciding what would be best.

"Nothing much, just that I can't train you tonight."

"Again?" Sulley exclaimed. "But Randall, it's been five nights in a row now! I'm never going to become a Scarer at this rate!"

"Yeah, and at this rate the whole friggin' world'll know it," he muttered, hoping that his student would get the hint. "I'm busy, okay? There's nothing I can do about it. It's not one of those things that I can change the time of or anything, so don't get your hopes up. No training tonight. The – end." Nodding slowly, Sulley acknowledged that this was the conclusion of the discussion and headed to the garbage disposal, getting on with what he was doing before. Randall also left the scene, going into his Scarefloor to begin the usual morning preparations.

Fungus knew that he should go with him, but as he got up from his hiding place, (he had been crouching) he noticed that he still had over an hour left to help Randall, which meant that he had over an hour left to do a bit of snooping. And the best person to start off with was obvious- James P. Sullivan. _But wait! _a little voice in his head said, halting him. _What if Sullivan tells Randall that you've been asking around?_ It didn't seem like such a good idea after all, though Fungus was still determined to find something out. But his opportunity disappeared in a second- Randall had come off the Scarefloor to grab a cup of something, and had spotted his scare assistant.

"Fungus," he started, but as the little red monster nervously hopped up to him, he realised he had made a mistake. "You comin' on the Scarefloor soon?"

"Err, no, I mean yes! Yes!" Randall's brows furrowed.

"Are you okay..?"

"Fine! Just fine!" Fungus licked his lips, thinking of what to say, but the best thing to do, it seemed, was to just go. "Bye!" His eyes following his overexcited friend, Randall put his hands on his hips, wondering what had just happened. Then he remembered something quite important- that this was Fungus, and that he didn't really care about him right at the moment because of all the other things he had to think about. But he still couldn't help question whether Fungus's behaviour was...out of the ordinary or not...and if it was, why?

_Oh,_ Randall sighed to himself_, it doesn't matter. I've got other things on my mind..._ And with that settled, he picked up his beverage, staring thoughtfully into the cup for a second before returning to the Scarefloor.

--------------------------

It was dark. Too dark, for Fungus's liking, but he was willing to put up with it if it meant getting to the bottom of months of watching his friend, Randall, change moods almost every second, from reasonably pleasant to hot fiery anger to subtle depression and utter fatigue. The third and final stage was always the worst- Randall, without knowing it, would go around with a sad, tired look, his eyes downcast, and his motions slow and seeming to be pointless. An easy answer to all of this was work, as Randall was known to be a bit of a workaholic and had been, recently, on the Scarefloor more than he had been at home. Fungus thought these thoughts with a touch of sadness; what must it be like for poor Felicity, never being able to see her father?

But none of this explained what Randall did almost every evening. Some of the time, as Fungus had found out, was taken by training Sulley, but that didn't take hours every evening, did it? Anyway, Randall had cancelled this particular training session, yet he was still there, at Monsters, Inc. after hours.

The plan to find out some much needed information that Fungus had formulated wasn't exactly...well, going to plan. He had left the Scarefloor as usual, after Randall so that he could clean up after him, but though he had hurried with his errands, he had still lost sight of the lizard-monster. Fungus DID manage, though, to ask around and get an idea of his whereabouts and, according to a passing janitor, Randall was last seen around Scarefloor F. Following these directions, Fungus had returned to the Scarefloor and had immediately spotted a pile of papers on Randall's desk that he didn't recollect being there before. But though Fungus had all the enthusiasm in the world, going into a dark Scarefloor alone...

He wouldn't dare turn the lights on- what if Randall was there and he noticed? A sudden thought struck Fungus. Randall could turn invisible. Fungus could wander into the Scarefloor, looking around and trying to find him without him noticing, but he might have blended in the background! And what if Randall caught him? What excuse would he make?

Fungus stopped himself before his nerves could get any worse. Thinking of all the bad things that could happen was not the solution. All he had to do was be brave, and face his fears...

Tip-toeing though the doors, Fungus made sure to leave them half-open to let in a bit of light- he wouldn't be able to see what he was doing otherwise. Every footstep he made seemed to be glaringly loud, as were his teeth chattering, and as each second passed, he became more and more worried and hoped that his luck wouldn't vanish too soon.

He had made it to the desk. Great. Sighing with relief, Fungus picked up one of the pieces of paper, holding his glasses forward to his eyes. He gasped. In his hand he held an intricate drawing of what seemed to be some kind of machine...Fungus searched the other papers. This one had quite spidery writing, which was sloped the wrong way- Randall's...and this one had been written with a thick, blotchy pen, that had smudged to the point of it being illegible...

There was a metallic clank not too far from Fungus, making him literally jump. It reverberated around the whole room, repeating itself over and over...

Once his susceptible heart had slowed after a period of alarm, Fungus crept to where he thought the noise had come from- behind the desk, around the far wall. He had been right, and as he laid eyes on the perpetrator, he shook his head and smiled to himself- it had only been the cover of a vent. This vent was unusually large though, hot air pumping through it, and as Fungus looked closer at its metal cover, he realised that this vent-cover hadn't just magically fallen off by itself- two screws that had secured it to the wall had been undone on purpose, and if Fungus still wasn't convinced, a screwdriver was to be found right in the centre of the crime scene.

A little burst of excitement erupted inside of him. This could be the chance for a quick adventure, Fungus thought to himself. No, no, what was he thinking? The sensible thing to do would be to notify a member of staff tomorrow morning. At least, that was what the logical part of his brain was saying- all ninety-nine percent of it.

But Randall was an old friend, and if this was anything to do with him...And it was blatantly obvious that the lizard-monster didn't want anyone finding out what he was doing if this WAS part of what had been making him so grouchy and moody recently...Fungus couldn't afford to loose yet another friend, no matter how..._unfriendly_ that friend could be...

And there was still that opportunity of a quick adventure, which would almost certainly promise, well, a bit of fun and..._risk_.

It was what you could call a unanimous vote (if the courageous one percent of Fungus's brain could have as many votes as it wanted, that is) and Fungus decided that if he DID end up finding any important information about anything, he would inform personnel of the highest rank in the company, even if that meant betraying one of his friends. After all, doing the right thing would always be right.

Getting down on his knees, Fungus slowly crawled into the small space presented before him, ready to greet the darkness and immensely pleased with himself for just having the guts to do anything remotely adventurous.

-------------------

Randall grinned. It had taken him a long time to get the exact right fitting for what he needed- and to get a brand new one at that- but as he unwrapped the protective packaging that encased the computer chip, he realised that it had all been worth it.

It was a beautiful piece of handiwork, though something that Randall could've easily done himself, given the right instruments, components, and, something that Randall had very little of- time. But it was because of these requirements that he had been forced to 'order out' the part, ready for him to program it for his needs. The melded strips of foil on this immensely tiny object shone in the dim light as Randall turned it over and over in his hands, joy that he hadn't experienced for quite a while flowing through his veins.

He then turned around, and stood and stared at his creation for a moment or two, appreciating the half-finished machine for the first time. Randall couldn't help but let a slightly regrettable thought pass through his mind- how proud Fliss would be of him once all the hard work was over, when 'Randall J. Boggs' was a household name and he was earning good money, living a comfortable life. When this time would come, Randall knew that Fliss would love him as a daughter loves her father- constantly and truly. Oh, how Randall longed for this time to come. But he would have to wait just a bit longer before his dreams could be fulfilled. Just a bit longer. Just a bit longer.

Getting back to work, Randall was preparing to crawl under his precious machine when the desk-lamp on the nearby table (which, incidentally, was covered with papers as was every other even surface in the room. Well, it was either that or random mechanical parts or lengths of wire) moved- he could tell as the light was aimed directly at his face, making him raise his arms up. He suddenly felt very scared. Lamps, as far as he knew, didn't move by themselves. They needed monsters or SOMETHING remotely alive to move them. Which meant that there was a monster (or something) in Randall's hideaway. And that, obviously, wasn't a good thing- hence his hideaway being called a hideaway.

Taking a few steps towards the blaring light, Randall became very fretful at the thought of someone finding out anything of Waternoose's plan and his involvement in it, and his eyes darted left and right constantly, though they couldn't see much- they had begun watering a little because of the intense light. His hand snatched out at the lamp's switch, then, seeing movement in the shadows and deciding that he would need some kind of weapon, Randall let the darkness overcome his opponent, quickly grabbing the torch that lay on the floor nearby, and braced himself.

There was more movement, only a few metres away. Randall aimed the torch into a particularly dark corner of the room, his pupils growing large in the dark, his eyes wide open. He had to time this well, to surprise whoever it was that had, essentially, invaded his privacy.

Something moved again, this time more violently.

Any second now...

"WHAAA!"

A small, red being jumped out of the shadows at the sudden burst of light, clawing at Randall and making him step back, also yelping. Everything was panicky and confused for several seconds, with a shaking burgundy lump resting against the control panel and the lizard-monster, still trying to get over the shock of what had just happened, with both upper hands cupped over his left eye and cheek. There was a stunned silence before Randall gradually made his way to his desk-lamp and, making sure that it was facing the right way, (a.k.a., not in his face) switched it on.

He lowered his hands, revealing several semi-deep scratches, one perilously close to an eye, and sighed with open relief at the intruder.

_It's only Fungus!_ he thought happily to himself. _Only Fungus...There's someone here. There's actually someone here. Damnit. _

"You IDIOT!" Randall seemed to prowl up to Fungus, sticking his own face right in front of his. "You...ARRGH!" He then swept an arm across a table, clearing it in seconds. Fungus was scared beyond belief, but was ready to try and talk to his friend.

"R-Randall...what's t-that?" He had said exactly the wrong thing, and a moment after he had twitched his head in the direction of the Scream Extractor, any attempts for Randall to control his own temper had sprouted wings and flown out the window. He stormed up to Fungus, every inch of his very being, his very soul, fuming with absolute fury. He didn't need this. "RANDALL! P-Please!" Fungus pleaded, backing away quickly.

"I have worked SO hard for this, y'know, and now YOU'VE come and YOU'VE just RUINED IT ALL!" Fungus, of course, had no idea what Randall was talking about, but this didn't stop him from being afraid. Raising his arms as Randall had done before, he squealed as the cold of the wall came up behind him. He was trapped. Randall could be a very menacing creature when he wanted to, baring his teeth and glaring powerfully, but when he really saw the terrified look on Fungus's face and understood that it was himself that had caused this, the expression on his face went from one extreme to the other- first, a picture of rage, and then, gradually, an appearance of doubt and sadness.

Fungus didn't even know what was going on, did he? He was just looking out for a friend, wanting to know what had been causing Randall such discomfort for what seemed like such a long time...he was only being loyal...

Randall closed his eyes, feeling the terrible wrath of his temper cool down, slowly but surely, and soon enough, he was the monster that Fungus was used to. But, then again, Fungus had crossed wires with Randall's temper many times before, so seeing him angry was as Fungus probably knew him.

_He knows me as a... monster...doesn't he? And yet he still thinks of me as a friend..._

Randall turned around, a hand on his face, at a lost at what to do. He couldn't just throw Fungus out, not after he had seen the Scream Extractor, and he was bound to ask questions. But he couldn't get him involved. No, that wouldn't do. Waternoose would loose HIS temper if he found out about Fungus helping out, and banishment would be nigh. Though Randall really could use an extra pair of hands... He would be able to get the machine finished in record time, ahead of schedule, and might even be home every evening in time to spend a few hours with Fliss before she went to bed. It would be great! But there was still the issue of Waternoose...Then it struck him. The most obvious answer to all his problems.

As Randall thought things through slowly and carefully, Fungus began to side-step away, edging along the wall and hoping to get out of wherever he was before the fearsome lizard-monster could stop him. He had caught sight of an exit, though he had absolutely no idea where it led, but if it meant getting out of this place and away from Randall, it didn't matter. But Randall wasn't as stupid as Fungus had hoped him to be. There were a few seconds of silence, except for the rushing of the air in the pipes above, in which the Scare Assistant just slowly edged away and Randall was to be seen somewhere behind his messy desk. It didn't last very long though, and as soon as Randall had decided what he was to do, he advanced towards Fungus, looking a little apologetic.

"Fungus?" The monster he had addressed practically screamed at the sound of his own name, and stood stock-still like a rabbit in headlights, mouth wide open and eyes popping. "About earlier...You caught me at the wrong time. A lot's been going on recently...I didn't mean to loose my temper..." This took him by surprise. He didn't expect Randall to say anything, let alone apologise. Wanting to accept it gracefully, he pointed at the Scream Extractor with a shaky finger.

"W-what's that?" Randall sighed, knowing that this would take a little while, and cleared a chair, beckoning Fungus to sit on it and make himself comfortable. He was quietly confident with himself, and knew that he could tell his friend anything as long as the two of them played by the one and only rule- what Waternoose didn't know couldn't hurt him.

"I like to call it the Scream Extractor, or SE."

"And w-what does it d-do?" Fungus was still jittering like a pair of wind-up teeth, and this was really starting to annoy Randall.

"Relax, Fungus, re-laaax. We're friends, right? That's why I'm telling you all this, right? _Right_?" As a reply, he nodded, wanting to make it clear that he agreed.

"Of course, R-Randall. Yes!"

"You asked me what this machine does. Well, isn't it just a _little_ obvious in the name? If it ain't, I guess I gotta think of a new name." Still puzzled, Fungus pushed back his glasses (a habit of his) and licked his lips.

"But why?"

"Why did I build it?" Randall patted the metallic side of his machine, relishing the freshness of the smooth texture that it had. "Y'know all those 'scream shortages' that have made the headlines recently? I wanted to help out, contribute in the world of scream-produced energy. And, yes, make a name for myself while I was at it. Why not? I had an idea, it worked on paper, and so I built it. It'll help Monster-kind, and that's all I'm really concerned about. Well, that and the money." He chuckled at his own joke, then smiled warmly at Fungus. "You're free to help out if you want. Ya gotta use that 180 IQ for something, don'tcha?" This was all a little too much for Fungus, and he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

"But what about Waternoose? Does he know about all of this? Won't HE want to take the credit rather than a reptile-monster?" In a second, he realised the terrible mistake he had just made, saying such a thing, and if he didn't, Randall's hurt glare said it all. But now was the time for Randall to begin lying, and because of what the person he was to be lying to just said, he found that he didn't mind anymore. And it all got even worse when the lizard-monster found himself to be thinking about what Fungus had just said, about Waternoose taking the credit. But he wouldn't do that. That was a silly idea. Waternoose wouldn't dare.

Would he?

"He doesn't know. There's no point of building something and telling your boss about it halfway through when, in the end it might not even work. I couldn't take that risk, Fungus. Especially since my job depends on the boss's opinion of me." Fungus blinked understandingly, threading his fingers together thoughtfully.

"So this is why you've been asking me to look after Felicity? You've been busy with your Scream Extractor?" Nodding guiltily and sorrowfully, Randall found himself automatically getting up and reaching for a ratchet- he couldn't stay in the same room as his machine for five minutes without working on it. He scratched the back of his head, and with a spare hand, picked up the precious chip that he had been unwrapping earlier.

"Hey, Fungus? You any good with linking up computer chips to machinery?"

And, from then on, Fungus liked to think that the Scream Extractor was a shared project, and that he and Randall were partners to a certain extent. But he was wrong.


	6. The Battle

Okay, just a quick run-through time scale-wise, just in case anyone's getting a little confused: The first chapter, of course, was set when Randall was nineteen, six years before the film. The second chapter is set three years later, with the third chapter two years after that, which makes _that_ one year before the film. The fifth chapter's only a few weeks after that, and, finally, this chapter set some months after that, a couple of months before the film. I'm sorry about all the time gaps, but I wanted to write about all the important, relevant events. Thanks for any reviews, and enjoy!

Chapter 6- The Battle

Another year.

Another year of working on the Scream Extractor, day in, day out, missing weekends and holidays.

Another year of never seeing Fliss.

Things weren't so bad now though, with Fungus helping out on the machine, and this gave Randall just that little bit more time to spend with his 'daughter'. He might get an evening a week with her, or maybe even half a Saturday, if they were lucky. It wasn't much, but it was something.

But Fliss had changed. All those years ago, when Randall had met her for the first time, she had been a sweet, inquisitive young child, not caring about object values, (except for her beloved Juddy, of course- without this little guy, she wouldn't even try to go to sleep at night, and making her eat supper would be hard work) but worrying about her home and her father more than anything. She had been a good girl, though an endless string of complaints would erupt from the teachers. Fliss had always been just a little _too_ inquisitive, unfortunately- bored with the usual schoolwork, gazing out the window in an almost constant daydream, and when a teacher would send her off somewhere, to another classroom, say, to get something, she would make several detours along the way.

But this never worried Randall. Actually, it was more of the contrary; he would chuckle at her antics, not wanting to scold her. Randall just figured that she was more of a free spirit. Anyway, he was more concerned about what the teachers had said concerning Fliss's social life. Fliss was never popular in the classroom, always finding herself to be an outsider, and the teachers noticed it. They would encourage her to mingle with the other children more, but Fliss would always point out that if she did this, they would poke fun at her and will her to go away, so there was never any point in trying. And she still had Randall, her father. He loved her, and that was enough.

Randall, on the other hand, didn't think this. He had been quite friendless himself as a child, and knew all too well how strenuous and depressing not having anyone to relate to could be. But he couldn't just storm into the school halfway through a recess and tell all the other children to be nice to Fliss, could he? All he could do was encourage her to try her best, and never be able to guarantee anything, sadly.

All of those years of being alone had affected Fliss. She was very different now- Randall found that he couldn't talk to her anymore, that she would spend hours in her room by herself. (Or, at least, that's what her babysitter would say.) And whenever her father WAS around, she would act as though he was a stranger. Well, it was either that or she DID acknowledge him by saying how much she hated him. Randall understood that, yes, she was almost a teenager at the age of twelve, and he appreciated the fact that, at that age children were beginning to change into adults, becoming more moody, etc. He remembered being like that himself, as a kid. Constantly loosing his temper, feeling sad and depressed, then suddenly cheering up. And Fliss was a girl, which made matters even worse. But still...Fliss had gone to the extreme of the meaning 'mood swing', except for a slight exception- her mood was continuously bad.

And this evening was to prove how bad.

Randall had managed to convince Fungus that they had earned an early evening, (if you could call leaving at nine o' clock early) and as they slowly trudged home, not bothering to talk, Randall couldn't help but be pleased with himself. That day, a Tuesday, had been quite productive- he and Fungus had managed to fit the scream canisters they had ordered onto the machine for the first time, and had been able to fit the entire warning system AND backup system in just several hours of pure hard work. And now he was leaving work early to see his beloved Fliss; a fitting end to an almost perfect day.

A weird but comforting warm feeling pulsated through Randall as he said a goodbye to his friend, going up the dodgy staircase in almost pitch black surroundings. He found himself chuckling at a stray memory- when Fliss had gone up the stairs in the dark for the first time she had been _so_ afraid, holding onto Randall's tail as though it was Prince Charming and she was a beautiful Princess, wanting to be rescued from the tallest tower of the castle, or staircase, as it was. The funny thing was, was that when the two of them had finally reached the top, Fliss had seen a spider in the corner of the hallway ceiling and had screamed, dropping her precious Jud Green down the stairs. Randall had been stern, wanting the young girl to learn things on her own, and had sent her back down the stairs to get her toy.

The happiness faded away as Randall remembered what had happened afterwards. Fliss had been extremely upset with Randall, refusing to talk to him for days on end. _But it was worth it,_ the lizard-monster tried to convince himself. _She hasn't been afraid of the stairs OR spiders since...has she...?_

He had reached the front door of his apartment without knowing it. Scooping down to pick up the key, (hidden under the doormat, as all cheesy stories state) Randall began to really relish this warm feeling that he was experiencing. He now understood why he was experiencing it too- because, for the first time in such a long while, he had arrived home before midnight. He found himself to be quite tired, though nothing compared to the usual fatigue that he would suffer on arrival, but was strangely excited. Maybe he and Fliss were going to have a proper talk tonight. Maybe she was back to normal again. Maybe everything was going to be alright.

And maybe Waternoose was going to ring him up this fine evening, tell him that the whole Scream Extractor thing was off and that he'd be coming to work tomorrow morning dressed in a clown outfit, complete with red honky nose and a flower that squirts water. The CEO would also have a pink fluffy toilet seat permanently glued to his butt.

Chuckling at these thoughts and wishing for one part, if not all of it, to come true at one point, (preferably BEFORE the completion of the SE) Randall shoved the key in a rusty lock and slowly opened the door. He immediately spotted Fliss on the settee, watching some wildlife program. She looked very...sad, resentful. Lonely. Sprawled across the length of the sofa, Randall didn't realise that she was asleep until he had actually come into their apartment and went round the other side of the sofa, next to the television. But she didn't seem to be resting peacefully. No...instead, there seemed to be a pained expression on her face, like a scowl. She looked mentally in pain, and it was very heartbreaking for Randall to see her in this state.

Fliss stirred, sensing someone there. Opening her eyes blearily and stretching, she actually smiled when she first saw Randall, but her smile soon disappeared.

"Hey, Fliss. Budge up." Having to move made Fliss a bit grumpy, but she soon got settled.

"Dad..."

"Yeah, honey?" Randall was trying to be as warm as possible, and as his eyes flickered up to the clock on the mantelpiece, reading the time, (9:29) he knew that he wouldn't have long with his daughter that evening.

"You _know_ I hate being called Fliss. It's such a baby name, really geekish and uncool."

"And since when did you care about being 'cool' or not?" Feeling as though he should be a little harsh, Randall narrowed his eyes, sighing.

"Since everyone else did." There was slight resentment in Felicity's voice, and she and Randall both knew why.

"Like Morgan."

"Yeah." She folded her arms. "Like Morgan."

"You know you can talk to me about anything, _Felicity._"

"Where did THAT come from?" Randall was relentless.

"Anything." There was an eerie silence for a few seconds, and then everything seemed to come to life once again. "You want a drink?"

"Um, yeah, a Weeler?"

"Sure. Oh, and could ya switch a few lamps on- it's pretty dark in here." Wandering into the kitchen, Randall felt quite satisfied- he had managed to have a conversation of sorts with his daughter, and now that she had warmed up to him, so to speak, surely she would begin to reveal her problems and qualms? The image of Waternoose plus the pink fluffy toilet seat suddenly flashed before Randall's eyes. Well, really, he thought of it purposefully. With a sigh, he realised that getting Felicity to talk would be as likely as Monsters, Inc.'s CEO and every single employee of his, including Randall, dressing up as he imagined. It just wasn't going to happen.

"Uhh, Dad?" called the very person Randall was talking about from the other room. Peeping his head round the wall, Randall smiled.

"Yeah, Felicity?" Felicity pointed to an unmoving spider which was quite happy on the wall, but soon wouldn't be. Visibly afraid, Fliss had gone round to the other side of the sofa, trying to build up her own confidence. Randall grinned.

"And I thought you didn't want to be treated like a baby, Fliss."

"I don't!" Picking the spider up and keeping an eye on it, he made his way over to a now terrified Fliss.

"Awww...is ickle Flissy afraid of da spider?"

"Shut up! Argh!" Fliss screamed as Randall got closer, and went around to the other side of the sofa hurriedly, eyeing her father's cupped purple hands. "Dad!" She began to laugh, as did Randall, as he chased her around the sofa again and again. In the end, Randall thought of a crafty idea and turned invisible, so that all Felicity could see was a floating spider. "DAD!" And though there had been a touch of annoyance in her voice, Fliss and Randall both knew that she was enjoying this. In a second, the spider was out of sight and Fliss was panicking excitedly. She hadn't had much fun with her father like this for such a long time, and was prepared to make the most of this occasion.

"BOOO!" Randall leapt up behind the anxious half lizard-monster, making her yelp and fall onto the settee, laughing hard.

"Nice knowing ya, spider." He let the spider out a half open window, which was letting in a cool, refreshing breeze. There had been a heat wave over the past week or so in Monstropolis, and this gentle wind was the first sign of it letting up.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Felicity sat up, taking a few deep breaths.

"I know that was 'babyish', Fliss," Randall began softly, "but you can't tell me you didn't enjoy that just a little?"

"_Dad,_" Fliss groaned, chuckling, not wanting a lecture, though it was exactly what she was going to get.

"Well? Did you enjoy it or not? Or would you have preferred slapping on a bit of makeup and having a night out with your mates?" The second he had said this, Randall regretted it. Fliss got up and went into the kitchen, suddenly infuriated, to get her drink. She didn't come out for a while, leaving Randall to think. He looked about himself, catching sight of an old photo placed in the prime position of a shelf. This was because it was one of Randall's favourites, and no wonder- it was a beautiful picture of him and Fliss at the park. Randall remembered that day- it had been a Saturday, before everything with the Scream Extractor, (Fliss was then about seven years old) and what a beautiful day it had been. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and the plants were dieing as summer stamped its very existence in Monstropolis. Randall had suggested going to the park, and he and Felicity had spent the day playing games, going on those funny paddle boats across the lake...They had had a picnic for lunch, grabbing a couple of ice-creams afterwards, and had stayed at the park until the evening.

But it hadn't been all perfect. In the photo, Fliss seemed happier than ever, but Randall...There was a slight expression of worry on his face, and he had had it for a good reason, or at least that's what HE liked to think- going to the park had been very risky; Randall didn't want a single monster that he knew to find out about his 'daughter', and yet he knew that a lot of people would have the same idea as he and Fliss, about going to the park on such a lovely day. He didn't relax until they had gotten home, and Fliss had noticed. But he had brushed it aside, saying that there was nothing wrong.

And it wasn't as though he was _ashamed _of Fliss- never! But letting the secret get out...There would be so many questions- who's the mother, where is she now, etc., and Randall just wouldn't be able to bear that.

There was the crack of glass falling onto a hard floor from the other room, and Randall jumped to his feet, snapping out of his deep thoughts. The remains of the Weeler was now trickling into the gaps between the floorboards in the kitchen, and a shaking Felicity was trying desperately to mop it all up.

"Here, let me help." Randall grabbed a cloth from a sideboard and started to dab the blue fizzy liquid up, but most had gone right through the floor by this time, so his efforts were in vain. He looked up at Fliss, wanting to tell her not to worry about it, but found her to be crying. Still she tried to wipe the Weeler away, even rubbing the dry spots, obviously not thinking about what she was doing. "Hey, Fliss..." He held a hand out, just about to clutch her arm supportively, but the pre-teen was in a bad mood by the point and shook his touch away.

"Leave me alone!" She stormed out the kitchen, throwing down her dirty cloth and slammed the door of her bedroom as she went inside. Randall, of course, followed her, more concerned than ever. Slowly opening the door which had just been closed with such force, he peeked into Fliss's room, finding her on the bed as he had done many times before. But this evening was to be different. "I told you to leave me alone..."

"Oh, Fliss..."He sat down on the bed, wrapping an arm around her. And, for the first time in a long while, she did not flinch or tear away or even move. She just accepted the embrace. They stayed as they were for a little while, father and daughter, enjoying a peaceful moment.

"Dad...?"

"Yeah, Fliss?"

"My necklace..." Fliss began, fingering the little charm she had around her neck. It was old and rusty, but held great value- it was the only object she had been able to keep that her mother, Marie, had given her. She remembered never wearing it as a very young child, but when she had been 'dumped' at Randall's, it was all she had to remind her of her. She then began to wear it as she got older, finding it to suit her, and though the children at school would torment her by saying that she was wearing junk around her neck, she refused to take it off- it was far too precious. Now, she was literally never seen without it. "My necklace, it's stuck...I tried to take it off, but I think the catch has rusted..."

"You tried to take it _off_?" Fliss nodded.

"Yeah, I...I wanted to clean it..." Getting suspicious, Randall eyed the necklace, then looked back up at Fliss, scrutinizing her facial expression.

"It's pretty dirty, I have to admit."

"So can you fix it some time? Tomorrow?"

"Well, I'll fix it soon..." Even Fliss could feel the 'but' coming. "But I'm really busy tomorrow..."

"But it won't come off at all! Can't you just free up five minutes to do my necklace? Just five minutes?" There was such hope in her voice, but Randall just didn't have the time. What hurt him most though, was that he couldn't tell her why.

"I'm sorry, Fliss...Maybe another day? Look, what's the matter? You've seemed so..._tearful_ lately. Can't you tell me what's wrong?"

"Oh my GOD!" Fliss suddenly blew a casket, outraged. "You tell me that you can't bother to spend FIVE MINUTES with me, just to fix something, and then you ask me 'WHAT'S THE MATTER'?! Well, I'll tell you what the matter is, _Dad-_ YOU CAN'T MAKE AN EFFORT TO SPEND TIME WITH ME- THE ONLY FAMILY YOU HAVE LEFT!"

"Fliss-" Randall started, taken back.

"It's no wonder YOU haven't got any friends, SINCE YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO TREAT YOUR OWN FAMILY PROPERLY! NO WONDER THE PEOPLE AT WORK CALL YOU A _FREAK!_" The words had come out before she had even noticed them, but once she understood what she had just said, Fliss found that she liked it. "You're not a freak in the way _they_ think it though, no. Instead, you're a freak in the sense that you live in your own little stupid world, and when it comes to OTHER people, YOU DON'T GIVE A DAMN! NOW GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" Randall knew when he was not wanted, and this was one of those times. He got up slowly, dejectedly, and made sure to close the door behind himself, leaving Fliss in the dark, alone, so she could cry in peace.


	7. Old Friends

Okay, I know this means that 'Into Perspective' is actually a really short story, but there's only one more chapter left after this one. 'Into Perspective' was just meant to be a sort of link story anyway, though some of the events (especially one in particular, which the next chapter highlights) are actually quite vital to everything else. Just thought I'd tell you that, so enjoy the next chappy!

Chapter 7- Old Friends

Randall had been grinning the entire day- which did, admittedly, confuse a few fellow workmates- but he had a sensible reason to, as did Fungus.

A whole month had passed since Fungus's involvement, and though each and every day had dragged more than Randall could ever imagine, they had both made it. Finally, the machine was finished.

Everyone bustled their way out of the Scarefloors, chatting to their friends about the relatively uneventful day and looking forward to returning to their homes, until only a solitary few were left- two Scarers and their Scare Assistants. Randall and Fungus were taking their time with packing up, wanting to send off some important paperwork to Roz's office without anyone too close by, but the other Scarer and his assistant were quite relentless.

Randall rolled his eyes, (as did Sulley, as a matter of fact) as an overconfident Cyclops raised an eyebrow in mock surprise, fingering some of his own paperwork. (Unfinished, of course.)

"Hey Sul, would you look at this!" Mike began loudly, glancing at Randall who had his back to them. "I've just worked out that...yes! You've been Top Scarer for a whole _year!_" The lizard-monster hadn't flinched, instead whispering something to Fungus importantly and passing by Mike without so much as a word. "Now isn't that _something_, don't you agree, Randall?" Determined as ever, he tagged along behind the experienced Scarer and his assistant, who were both hefting giant piles of paperwork over to the office, trotting beside them with a smug look about his face. "You know what I'm thinking, Sul?" he called back to his sighing buddy. "I'm thinking that _someone's _getting a little _jealous..._"

Getting the paperwork to Roz was what was on Randall's mind at this time, though the distraction was obviously getting a little annoying, let alone tedious. They soon reached her desk, and after plopping the stacks of paper upon it, he gave Roz a knowing nod and turned around, ready to deal with the blabbering interference. The new (or not so new, as the case was) Top Scarer had stepped up behind him, looking defiant.

"...But Sul here, he has the _technique_, the, the _motivation_ that some monsters-"

"If that paperwork hadn't been important it'd be halfway down that open trap of yours, Wazowski," Randall started angrily. "So count yourself lucky."

"Ahh, but _I_ know that you're all talk and no action, isn't he Sulley?" The furry held his hands up as if to say 'don't get me involved', though anyone could see why.

"Yeah, sure. Look, Wazowski, I can pretty much guarantee that if I could find anything actually big enough to stuff down that cakehole of yours, it'd be down there right now, rotting away with your lunch, ya got that?" Randall's menacing side took over, and he sneered at Mike, balling his fists but also pointing a finger at the round monster. "So you'd better shut it, before I _do_ find something."

"Come on, Mike," Sulley urged his friend, steering him towards the exit. They were out of sight in a few seconds, but Randall was adamant to wait a bit longer- if anyone followed him to his hideaway as Fungus had, all of their hard work really would be wasted, and Waternoose would be sure to blame the lizard-monster. The Scarer and his assistant both grabbed a cup of hot slime, sipping it in silence and thinking about a lot of things. Randall didn't like these moments; the one thing he had been thinking of almost constantly for the past month since it had happened wasn't something he liked to recollect- he did this enough whilst trying to get to sleep at night, and it certainly wasn't healthy for him to start thinking about it now. He pushed it to the back of his mind, binning his empty cup.

_But all of that blood...Deep red...splattered...all because of him...Yet another life wasted._

"No," Randall whispered to himself as he, along with his faithful friend, quickly strode to the new entrance of his hideaway- built in mind of easier access, especially whilst carrying new, larger parts for the machine. "Stop..._thinking..."_

A spanner, the secret lever which would open the 'tool' door, was clicked upwards and a cold, dark, echoing metal passageway beckoned. Randall walked down it without so much as a shudder, as did Fungus; they were used to this entrance by this time, and had used it on many an occasion until going down it became a bit of an annoyance rather than an unpleasant experience.

And then there it was.

Beautiful, if not a little intimidating, the completed Scream Extractor glinted and gleamed as bare hanging light bulbs were turned on, illuminating its shear size. If a human child wasn't to be afraid of this thing, then no monster would _ever _be able to scare them. And, though its actual purpose was a little cruel, the machine seemed to look proud of its very existence, and maybe slightly sad that it would have to do what it was made for.

But it was still a thing of beauty- something that no-one could deny.

Well, at least, that's what it seemed like for Randall- if it had been any less than a work of art, he most certainly wouldn't be satisfied, especially after all the time he spent on it. For Fungus, the machine wasn't as symbolic, only posing as a sort of favour for a friend.

As the machine loomed into view whilst Randall walked around some pipes blocking the scene, he gasped silently, his mouth opening.

_There's someone HERE!_

Randall immediately acted by instinct, leaving Fungus in the dark, and leapt out of the shadows, crashing to the floor with the unwelcome visitor underneath him.

"Who – the heck – are _YOU?!_" He managed to spit out, shaking with suppressed rage. The monster beneath him was a fair size with blue-green skin, though this had turned to an almost perfect white in shock. His countless black eyes were popping out of his head as he replied, stuttering and trying to stop his four tentacle arms from flailing.

"I-inspector for W-Waternoose, s-sir..."

"_Inspector, _huh?" Randall refused to give in, keeping the security tight as possible. "Ya got any proof?"

"P-please, sir, it's i-in my b-bag..." The 'inspector' pointed to Randall's desk, and, as he had said, there was indeed a bag. And, now Randall had begun to take real note of the monster's appearance, and even his voice, the assumption that he was barely a kid seemed logical enough.

"FUNGUS!" Randall yelled, sending his friend jumping about on the spot and hurrying over.

"Y-yes-"

"Check his bag for ID, and be quick about it!" It took a minute or so for Fungus to find anything, but he did eventually, cautiously tip-toeing up to Randall. "Give it here." He snatched it from the outstretched hand and checked through it, scrutinizing every detail. Once satisfied, he unpinned 'Greg' and got up, handing over the ID and signalling for Fungus to give him the bag. "Why are you here?"

"I...I was told by Waternoose t-to check the m-machine's progress...?" Greg replied, hoping that he had answered correctly, but Randall only nodded idly, fiddling with the boy's bag. He didn't manage to find much- a few personal photos, an empty notepad, and...a letter?

"Who's this from?" he asked in a straightforward manner, dropping the bag cruelly and ending up with only the envelope.

"I-I can't say, s-sir-"

"Why not?" Randall continued his interrogation, intrigued.

"It's p-personal...NO!" Ripping up the already open envelope, Randall swiftly unfolded the piece of paper it held inside, but before he could read a single word, he had spotted Greg ready to dive, so he quickly slithered up a wall and onto the ceiling, enjoying the monster's panic.

"Well, well...what do we have here? How about I read this out, huh? And then you can answer any questions I might have," Randall said teasingly, still hanging onto the ceiling as Greg jumped up and down frantically. "_Dear Mr Forsythe, I am writing you a quick note to inform you of your newly acquired position within the SoHH. Your progress in the company has been quite spectacular and you will receive an award later in the year at the Awards Ceremony in Ikleon, as arranged. And, as a perk of your new position, your first new task is quite high-profile- to report to Henry J. Waternoose at the Monstropolian energy giant, Monsters, Incorporated. Upon arrival, he will provide you with accommodation and the like, and will also tell you of what you are expected to do regarding his new creation and, of course, the CDA. I will write another note before long. Yours sincerely, Executive Manager and Promotions Organiser – SoHH."_

Satisfied yet unbearably confused, Randall crept down the wall and folded up the note.

"I hope you'll be able...to...Oh, GREAT!" There was not a trace of Greg Forsythe, or his belongings for that matter, other than Fungus crawling around on the ground, patting the floor. "Fungus, you _stupid little_..." There was a quiet crunch, and Randall lifted up his foot to reveal a crushed pair of glasses.

Picking them up, his brain suddenly went into overtime, reeling at the large proportion of questions that he had just come across. What were these people wanting to do 'regarding the CDA', and how had they got it into their tiny little brains that the SE was _Waternoose's_ creation instead of Randall's? And what was the name of this 'Executive Manager and Promotions Organiser' anyway? And what the _heck_ was the 'SoHH'?

He sighed, shaking his head. Yet MORE questions that were to be asked, but never answered.

Well, not for a few years.

---------------------------------------

The following day was a local Monster World holiday, giving the employees of Monsters, Inc. a well deserved day off, as with many other shops and companies in the surrounding area. It also happened to be a local election day, so many of the monster's brains were quite clearly focused on certain events and happenings, and were still working hard to get who they wanted to be the Mayor of Monstropolis.

These matters, though, did not concern Randall. He wasn't particularly bothered who the new mayor was to be- it never seemed to make much of a difference to him anyway, unless, suddenly, one day one of them would develop a sense of justice in relation to the reptilian minorities.

No, today was to be a calm, relaxing day without a second thought regarding the machine. Randall still had to give it a final check-up, insuring the systems and so on were working without a hitch; he couldn't afford a mess-up, especially not in front of Waternoose. And, to assure the anxious lizard-monster, Fungus had promised him that he would, at some point that day, go and tidy the hideaway having obtained a set of keys, though Randall always preferred to do the assessments of the SE himself.

But Fungus had been right regarding one matter- Randall _had_ been overworking himself, and did deserve a day off. It didn't seem right, though, to be in that cold, seemingly empty apartment by himself.

It wasn't right not to hear a certain someone's early morning groaning as Randall would drag her out of bed...

The Scarer scolded himself for thinking such thoughts. All that happened over a month ago, and it was finished now, ready to be forgotten about. It HAD to be forgotten about.

Randall grabbed his cup of strong coffee and slowly walked back into the main room, tiredly sitting on his torn old sofa and picking up the box in front of him with a spare pair of hands, rummaging through its contents. There was nothing much in here- a few bits of straggly tinsel, some glistening spheres there were to be hung up on the ceiling...even a macaroni card to celebrate the separation of Humans and Monsters that...that a little girl had made years ago.

_Forget about it, you _idiot,_ and if you can't, THROW the stuff AWAY._

Should he? These sort of things were very precious, especially if they reminded him of-

_No. I can't be reminded any more. THROW THE STUFF AWAY._

But they were all he had left, all he could remember her by...

_NO! THROW THE STUFF AWAY!_

The battle continued for a good five minutes, until Randall was forced to get to his feet, the card held in hand, and go into the kitchen. The bin looked as though it knew what was coming, and its lid was stuck from last night's uneaten microwave dinner, so mustering up the courage do to something that was so against what Randall _really_ wanted to do that he eventually gave up, placing the card on the kitchen worktop by his side. He knew he hadn't actually put any effort into opening the bin, but even thinking about throwing such an important piece of his history away had taken a lot of convincing, as had moving his feet to go into the kitchen.

But he just couldn't do it.

Returning to the main room, Randall plopped back down on the sofa and drank the rest of his coffee in silence. He would do the decorations for later, or maybe not even bother at all. What would be the point if he was the only person there to enjoy them?

This question was to be proved useless in a matter of seconds as the doorbell rang several times, causing Randall to roll his eyes, although, if he was to confess and give in to his true feelings, there definitely was an element of curiosity in his motions.

He trudged to the door, wondering who on earth would want to visit him on such a day as this.

"SURPRISE!" exclaimed two voices, one high, one low. "Bet'ya didn't expect _us_ to be here, huh Ran?" Randall took a long breath, gritted his teeth and grinned.

"Hey, guys...No, I didn't expect you to be visiting..." He chuckled nervously, hoping that his 'happy' act was convincing enough. "It's..._good_ to see you! Yeah...Thanks for coming!"

"It's our pleasure, Randall," smiled Carmen warmly, performing a mock bow and then stepping forward to give her friend a tight embrace. And Randall, though peeved at his two friend's appearance, found that he really, _really_ needed it.

"Hey, Ran, where's MY hug!" cried out Jay jokily, and then waving a hand. "Hey, don't look so worried- I didn't plan to kill you!" The lizard-monster stepped back, suddenly wary of his college-mate's protruding spikes. Nevertheless, he smiled, if not a little reservedly.

"Yeah...if only." He snapped out of his mood in a second, wagging a finger. "Come on in- ya wanna cup of coffee or something?"

"Well, if you have any prepared."

"You know me, Carmen- I've _always_ got coffee on the go!" Chuckling as he went into the kitchen, Randall's smile disappeared before long. He really didn't feel like visitors, though he hadn't seen this particular pair for a while...A thought struck him.

The two had come here..._together?_

There was obviously a reasonable explanation- he hadn't seen them for quite a long while- so maybe they were on a trip together or something, or maybe it was all just a coincidence.

_Yeah, right._

Whilst making the coffee, Randall had a quick peek of the goings on in the room behind him, shifting invisible for a few seconds to take a look. Carmen and Jay were chatting away like never before, Carmen laughing politely at her friend's brash jokes. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with this scene. Randall shook his head, returning to the kitchen.

_Always been WAY too insecure, haven't ya Randall? Always suspicious of the slightest things..._

The coffee made, Randall returned to his old friends, keeping his thoughts to himself.

"So, how have things been goin', buddy?"

"Well," sighed Randall thoughtfully. "I think a more..._pressing_ question right about now is, um, why you're here...?"

"Just come to see ya, pal!"

"Yes," began Carmen. "We haven't really been keeping in touch, though even _I'm _surprised that the three of us are still talking after...oh, how many years has it been now?"

"Six and a half, and still counting," Randall replied quickly, sparking a few raised eyebrows. "Birthdays, y'know...Uh, I'm even more surprised at you two keepin' in touch-"

"We have something to tell you, Randall."

"Yep, buddy- the _real _reason we're here!" Randall gulped. "Me and Carmen-"

"Carmen and _I_, Jay," Carmen pointed out. "Carmen and I."

"Yeah, yeah, well, I...err...don't really know how to..."

"We're getting married!" The couple smiled, Carmen trying to retain her immaculate poise and Jay restraining the urge to jump up and down on the settee. Surprisingly, Randall didn't feel like doing so.

"You're getting married."

"Yep!"

"You two, Carmen and Jay, are getting married." Nodding, the pair held hands, waiting for Randall's real reaction. "Sure."

"No, we _are_, Ran!" Jay persisted.

This wasn't right. Randall's suspicions had been proven to have been correct, but it still wasn't right. They couldn't be together. They were Randall's best friends, Carmen and Jay- they were meant to HATE each other!

"And why did you expect me to care?" This took the engaged by surprise. Looking at each other in astonishment, they turned back to face Randall, their expressions written all over their faces.

"Randall, you're our friend!"

"And I wanted you to be my best man!" Randall shook his head.

"Well, you obviously expected too much of me. Now if you would please leave, the door's right over there, y'know where you came _in_ from?"

"Randall, what's...what's gotten into you?" Carmen asked quietly.

"What's gotten into me? What's gotten into _me?_ You two," he started angrily, "the two people that, as far as I knew, hadn't changed over the years, the two people that had made what are some of the best memories of my life, the two people that were the only _constant_ that I could rely on, that I could say, 'yep, it's just like it was all those years ago when I was actually HAPPY', are getting married. Do YOU see anything wrong with that, coz I really-"

"No, no, Randall, we haven't changed, not an ounce!"

"A coupla years ago, you pretty much loathed each other. And now, you're getting married. Any change there? No? You can't see ANY difference?" Jay was worried by this time, and had approached Randall.

"Come on, buddy- that was _years_ ago! I've spent a lot more time with her since, when we went to the Police Academy together, and I never realised how amazing Carmen was back-"

"Shut up. Just shut up and..."

"Leave?" finished Carmen. "I'm disappointed, Randall-"

"You're '_disappointed'_? Don't you see what it's like for me, in _my_ situation?!" Jay shook his head.

"Sorry, bud, but we don't see what the big deal is."

"But maybe we SHOULD leave if you're going to act like such a spoiled...brat...Randall?" Depression had washed over him for the umpteenth time in as many days, and Randall found that he just couldn't take it anymore. This really was the last straw, but he found that he didn't want to loose his temper or get mad. Instead, he just wanted to cry.

In a second, he had vanished from sight, his heart beating madly, and had crept into his bedroom, locking the door.

Carmen and Jay had tried to get in, calling at Randall through the door, but had eventually given up, thinking that it was best just to leave.

Anyway, they do say that the tears of a mourner are not to be restrained, and Randall missed Fliss _so _much...


	8. Trains

Hey, everyone! Okay, as I said before, this is the last chapter. I just want to mention explain something quickly that features in this chapter- in the Monster World, I have made it so that their equivalent of a train works by a magnetic force, (presuming that they have actually found out about the magnetic poles) and is kept on the track by this force. I know that sounds completely random, but it does relate to this chapter at some point.

Chapter 8- Trains

He kept going over those words, those sharp, powerful words that she had thrown at him that fateful night all but a month ago.

_Well, I'll tell you what the matter is, Dad- YOU CAN'T MAKE AN EFFORT TO SPEND TIME WITH ME- THE ONLY FAMILY YOU HAVE LEFT!_

It all kept coming back- little snippets of the argument that had raged between the two of them, the look on her face as she let out all the anger she had been holding within.

_It's no wonder YOU haven't got any friends, SINCE YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO TREAT YOUR OWN FAMILY PROPERLY! NO WONDER THE PEOPLE AT WORK CALL YOU A FREAK!_

The last words she had uttered were the worst, though. They were cruel and based on a hatred Randall had never experienced before, as though _he_ was to blame for all of her misfortune, and the fact that he remembered it all so vividly made matters worse.

_You're not a freak in the way they think it though, no. Instead, you're a freak in the sense that you live in your own little stupid world, and when it comes to OTHER people, YOU DON'T GIVE A DAMN!_

And this evening was to be a complete replay of the events that had changed his life in one way, causing other ongoing tasks to be transformed in another.

--------------------------------

It had been half an hour since they had last spoke. Randall had spent the majority of it thinking, and, if he was to be true to those thoughts, feeling deeply ashamed.

Fliss had been right- he _had_ been neglecting her, though he found himself unable to change the situation. Many times before she had said that she wanted to see more of Randall, to socialise more- he was the only family she knew of, after all- but even after an explosive argument, nothing ever changed. Eventually, she had given up all hope of getting any closer to her father.

But this evening...this evening hadn't just been a common argument. It had, instead, been a statement of the pure facts, and an opportunity for Fliss to tell Randall what she _really_ thought of him, and what their relationship had become based on- broken promises.

Apologies had been reluctantly accepted in the past, but this time Randall wasn't sure as of what to do. He _could_ try and patch things over with Fliss, but something told him that she wasn't feeling too forgiving at the moment. Nevertheless, he would try- at least she wouldn't be able to hold his lack of effort in these situations against him in the future.

The door of Fliss's bedroom was, of course, firmly shut, but Randall hadn't expected such difficulty to get it open. It can't have been locked- the only doors in the apartment which even had locks on them, other than the front door, was the bathroom and Randall's bedroom. In the end, Randall took a few steps back, bracing himself, and rushed forwards powerfully, slamming his arm and side against the door.

It moved open a few inches- enough for Randall to have a look about inside and find the cause of the problems. It had been Fliss's heavy wooden toy chest, shoved up against the door, and behind it, her bed had been moved to hold it in place, giving it more support.

"Fliss, what the heck have you been doin' in here?" One of Randall's emerald eyes searched about the room, but there were no lights on, leaving everything hidden in shadows. The curtains fluttered amongst a cool breeze, and as they parted momentarily, the moon's milky whiteness would spread over Fliss's bedcovers. There was not a lump under them, though. "Open the door, Fliss!" Randall waited for a reply, but there was none. "_Felicity!_ Stop this, NOW," he called out sternly. "This is..." he began, sighing. "This is getting silly now. Just open the door." Nothing. Not even the pitter-patter of four-toed feet against the wooden floor. "_Fine_ then," Randall growled to himself.

He stepped back once again, pushing against the door until the gap was wide enough for him to get through. Clinging onto the wall so he could get over the large toy box, Randall slipped into the room and dropped down, landing onto the bed and making the metal coils beneath him creak and groan ominously. He rose up, pulling the bed-covers back with him just to double check whether or not Fliss was hiding under there, but to no avail- all he found was a curled up Jud Green hiding in the warm.

_In his bed, Randall shivered and rolled over. He didn't like this part._

Randall then crawled off the bed slowly, his eyes peering about in the shadows, and reached over to switch a lamp on. The warm, orange light filled the room instantly, but the tense atmosphere remained. Watching from above, the toys seemed to know something that Randall didn't as he searched the room over and over again, but as he glared up at them, they hid away, looking innocent and trying to prove that they really were just toys.

As the fifth look around came and went, Randall really didn't leave any stone unturned. He looked in ridiculous places, taking all the books of the large bookcase that covered one whole wall, then eventually pulling this back down with a thundering crash, as though doing so would block out the little voice in his head telling him that Fliss was gone, that she had run away.

He knew he could track her down, but just the fact that she had run away was so..._shocking_...No. No, it wasn't shocking. Randall should've expected it sooner, and _he knew it_.

The open window beckoned, and standing in the middle of this once beautiful room biting a finger wasn't going to help find Fliss. Randall needed to get a move on, before she got too far ahead.

Not believing that he actually had to _do_ this, he revealed a forked tongue and smelt the air, counting to ten to calm his nerves. If the air could've talked, it would've screamed in agony, knowing that it was the one with all the clues as to the whereabouts of someone who just _didn't want to be found._

And then Randall climbed out of the window, ready to begin the chase.

-------------------------------------

It only took him a good twenty minutes or so and a bit of a trek across town (stopping, every now and then, to check that he was headed in the right direction) to spot her.

She had sat down in a bus shelter, huddled up in the corner, staring at the fluorescent green graffiti to her side. Before leaving Randall's apartment, she had packed carefully and sensibly, and had only brought things which could be of a real use to her, rather than giving in to her sentimental side and bringing Juddy along for the ride.

And now, she waited. She waited for the bus that would take her...well, anywhere. As long as it was away from there, away from Randall, away from her old, disgusting, pathetic, _useless _life.

When he had spotted her, Randall's emotions really had become too much. He had kept them safely locked up inside upon the realisation that Fliss had run away, but now he had found her, everything was going to be alright! He'd be able to take her home, to comfort her, to be a _real_ father, as he had promised time and time again. But this time, he was going to do it. He couldn't break another promise. He just _couldn't._ He might've had his last chance, but surely he deserved another?

Approaching the bus-shelter without having turned invisible was the biggest mistake of Randall's life. Seeing her father running towards her, eyes wide and shining in the dim glow of the streetlights, was the one thing she had hoped wouldn't happen, and Fliss knew that if she didn't get away know, he'd _never_ let her go.

She grabbed her bag with shaking hands, and fled.

Randall, nearing the bus-shelter, saw Fliss suddenly jump to her feet and sling her bag over her shoulders, and felt like taking a knife to his wrist for even _thinking_ about getting his hopes up. But he did have one thing on his side- pure agility. He flopped down on all eights, embracing the cold tarmac, and went into hyper-drive.

Fliss also had something on her side, something she was prepared to use; her understanding and knowledge of her father. She knew he would speed up upon understanding that she was running away again, because she knew how desperate he was. Fliss was, after all, all Randall had left, and though the same applied reversed, she found that she just couldn't _love _him like she used to. Sadly, she had found that she needed...someone else.

It didn't take Randall long to catch up, but Fliss had had an idea. Speeding up a wire-fence, she leaped over the barbed-wire, using her light weight figure to her advantage, and knowing that, though Randall had his own moves, he would struggle. The purple lizard-monster snatched at her tail as she jumped over, shouting her name frantically before trying to follow suite.

But, as Fliss had expected, (and, frankly, hoped for) Randall had great problems with getting over the barbed wire. His body was just too heavy and long to be able to just leap over it, but bearing a few scratches wasn't something that Randall was going to worry about. How long he was taking, on the other hand, stressed him out, and after some quick consideration, he took the barbed wire in two hands and feet, and hauled his structure over it. The sting of the sharpened tips of metal weren't a problem- the adrenaline rushing through his veins blocked out most pain and emotions, thankfully, and focused him on his target- Fliss.

Unfortunately, she had vanished out of sight, and as Randall stalked around a large building, trying to find its entrance, a sign loomed into view, lit up by a flickering, bare bulb directed over it.

_NORTH MONSTROPOLIS COUNCIL TRAINSTATION _

Fliss was still nowhere to be seen, and Randall doubted that she had gone into the train station- the place was alarmed and, what's more, the twelve-year old knew it.

But his tongue said otherwise, leading him right up to the entrance. Suddenly, in his mind's eye, Randall could see Fliss coming over here...trying the door, but deciding it was too risky...she had then turned to the wall next to her...and had climbed up...and up...

And Randall went after her. There was still a chance. ALWAYS a chance.

-----------------------------------

The view was spectacular from up top. Fliss could practically see the whole of Monstropolis, just a mass of dark, punctuated by the dozens of streetlights dotted about the roads. Almost in a day-dream, she wandered forward to the railings, clutching them with her cold, stiff hands.

Randall wasn't going to be so stupid this time. He tried to intertwine common sense into his thinking, and shifting into the background to catch Fliss seemed the most sensible thing to do. As he stepped slowly forward, his arms outstretched and his feet leaving blood footprints, ready to embrace her, ready to do something that he had waited for _such_ a long time, he took a steadying breath, holding in his excitement.

_She can't get away now..._

The sweaty hand upon her shoulder gave Fliss a horrible shock, and she swept round, fear showing in her eyes, before fighting against the grip. Randall's grasp was tight, but his fatigue was becoming evident, and a square punch in the jaw from a terrified Fliss gave her enough time to get away.

Staggering backwards, suddenly visible, Randall dived forward but only grasped air. Fliss had jumped over the railings.

"_NO!_" Randall ran to the bars and looked over before jumping up himself, and crawled down three stories of wall before reaching the safe but deadly ground. "FLISS!" he called out after not being able to find her body. "WHY ARE YOU _DOING _THIS?! WHY?!" Panting, Randall calmed himself down and checked out where she had headed.

_At least she isn't dead, _a voice said comfortingly in his mind.

"Why," Randall began angrily, "am I even THINKING THAT?!"

_I shouldn't even HAVE to say, 'at least she isn't dead',_ it continued. _I should just be able to love her...like a _real_ father. _

"Oh, just get _on _with it," he said to himself.

------------------------------------

Felicity stood on the edge.

It didn't look very nice down there, in the dark, but if she went down there and waited, it would all end. She'd be dead, and it would all be..._over._

The train would be coming soon- she remembered the times from when she and Randall had gone on a day trip to some museum in the neighbouring city of Screamsville. It was the last train, always empty, and it didn't stop here, in Monstropolis. It just carried on to somewhere else.

Still, Felicity stood on the edge.

The platform was dirty, covered in litter that danced around like leaves in the wind, and little blobs of pink and white chewing gum, some still sticky.

And it still didn't look very nice down there, in the dark.

But Fliss found that, in this moment of time, being sandwiched between metal was very tempting. Too tempting.

Just one step, a minute's wait, and it'd be over.

_She'd be in heaven._

"Don't you dare, Fliss. Don't – you – _dare._" Fliss closed her eyes, refusing to turn around.

"This is nothing to do with you, _Dad._ I'd really appreciate it if you'd just leave." Upon hearing a slight _pat_, she held up a finger warningly. "And _don't_ come any closer." But she didn't expect to hear her father _chuckling._

"And you think this is the right way, huh Fliss? You think this'll end it all?" He shook his head. "You're wrong. You'll just be wasting a life, _your_ life. You don't wanna do that, do ya? You don't wanna just..._end_ it all. I can tell."

"Yeah, right-"

"You're my DAUGHTER Fliss! Well, at least, according to _me._ I KNOW you! I know your personality, your quirks and habits, everything about you!"

"So why didn't you ever act as though you cared? Why did you just leave me?" Fliss turned around, and Randall could see that she was crying. "_Why_ didn't you love me any more?"

"Oh, Fliss," Randall said, his own emotions getting the better of him. "I never stopped loving you, _never._" He took a step forward, holding out his arms as though he was hugging someone, the blood on his hands dripping down onto the ground. "I've never been able to really, y'know, show my feelings-"

"But you _HAVE!_" wailed Fliss, the tears pouring. "You have...I remember...when I was really young and you'd hug me and talk to me and BE there for me! B-but then," she swallowed, "one day, you just...weren't _there_ anymore...I remember the first time you came home late and I cried and cried and cried, and no matter what Fungus did, he couldn't stop me. He, he got all my toys out from my room and played with me- well, tried- and he..." Breaking down into sobs, Fliss hugged herself, then willed herself to carry on. "...he tried so hard, it was sort of funny," she carried on, her voice nasal. "But all I wanted was _you..._and I wouldn't do anything else but cry until you came home." Randall nodded slightly.

"I remember that..."

"It took me ages to get used to it...to you not being there..."

"Fliss..."

"And in the end, I stopped loving you.

"No, no, Fliss!"

"I stopped you, you didn't care...so why should I have?"

"Fliss, j-just promise me you won't do it...you won't...go down _there..._"

The train was coming ever nearer, and it's bright head light was casting long shadows on the platform.

"_Dad..._" Randall took another careful step forward, his hands trembling terribly, tears trickling slowly down his cheek. He smiled as Fliss edged forward a little.

"My _darling_ little Fliss..." Randall breathed.

"No...no, Dad. I can't let you do this...I can't let you manipulate me..."

"Fliss-"

"NO, DAD! NO!"

"When you were y-young, Fliss-"

"NO! I HATE YOU! I _HATE_ YOU!"

_Randall turned over again, still restless in his sleep. Why couldn't he just wake up now? _

It was over in a second- Fliss had slipped, tumbling down into the darkness of the rail track. She screamed as she did so, her body disappearing in a second. Randall had hastily run forward and, seeing a heap in the darkness, jumped down.

"DAD!" He leaned over her, taking her arm, and tugged hard. "Dad, I-I'm stuck..." Fliss's whole body was shaking in fright, but Randall tried to concentrate. Why was she stuck? What was wrong? "M-my necklace..."

Fliss had been right- her precious necklace had been attracted to the magnetic force of the rail-tracks that would keep the train down, and it wasn't coming loose. Randall's first thought was to open the clasp, but then it dawned on him.

The clasp had rusted.

Fliss had asked him to fix it.

_And he had said no._

The train was here. They had...oh, three, four seconds?

_Wake up, you idiot!_

The struggle lasted for nearly as long, but the chain wouldn't break. If Randall had had the energy to snap the metal, he would've.

_Wake up!_

But he didn't.

_Come on, you can't go through this again!_

The train had come.

_WAKE UP!_

He felt a hand roughly grab him by the shoulder, pulling him back, pushing his structure against the side of the rail-track. Fliss's hand slipped out of his, her face contorted with fear.

_WAAAAKE UUUP!_

And the train had gone.

----------------------------

And Randall had gone home, and had washed the blood off his face and hands and feet, and had gone into Fliss's room to tidy everything up so it could be just as it was, absolutely the same, everything in its place.

There was only one thing missing.

-----------------------------

Randall opened his eyes. _Why _did he have to remember that?

Every other night, always remembering...

He sat up and held his head in his hands, taking a deep breath and biting his tongue, holding back the tears. He'd cried enough yesterday, and had completely blown it with the only two friends he had ever really had...

If only _they_ knew what had been really wrong, the main reason for Randall's unusual behaviour...

No. No, they could never know. Fliss had put everything into perspective for Randall, and he needed to focus his life now. He had the success of the machine to rely on, and he could do it- he could be victorious, and overcome any obstacles.

Rolling out of bed, the withdrawn lizard-monster swallowed, clearing his mind, and walked out of his bedroom, into the last real day of his life for many a year.

Because on that day, he would be talking to Waternoose about the machine's progress. He would be leaving a door out in the evening to collect the first test child, and he would be having a sleepless night.

And tomorrow, he would try and kill someone.

And tomorrow, he would be fighting for his own life.

And tomorrow, he would be banished.

But that was tomorrow. He still had to deal with today first.

--------------------

Well, that's it, sadly. My next story will be up soon and...Oh, I know this chapter is horrible and mean, but I had to do it at some point. Ah well...Anywho, thanks for the reviews and have a nice day!


End file.
